tihvwy  of trhe- 'theological  ^tmimvy 

PRINCETON    •    NEW  JERSEY 


PRESENTED  BY 

Estate  of  Rockwell  S.  Brank 


BT  375  .D64  1904  ^  _^^ 
Dods,  Marcus,  1834-1909. 

The  parables  of  our  Lord 


ICL40  1947 

OUR  LORD 


THE  PARABLE^y^; 


BY 

MARCUS  DODS,   D.D. 

AUTHOR     OF      "THE    PRAYER    THAT    TEACHES    US    TO     PRAY,' 

LODUCTION   TO   THE   NEW    TEST 

"ISRAEL'S  IRON  AGE,"    ETC. 


PHILADELPHIA 

THE  WESTMINSTER  PRESS 

1904 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  THE    SOWER 7 

Matt.  xiii.  1-9,  18-23  ;  Luke  vii;4-i5. 

II.  THE  TARES 28 

Matt.  xiii.  24-30,  36-43. 

III.   THE   MUSTARD    SEED 45 

Matt.  xiii.  31,  32. 

IV.  THE  LEAVEN 63 

Matt.  xiii.  33. 

V.  THE  HID  TREASURE  AND  THE  PEARL  OF   PRICE 81 

Matt.  xiii.  44-46. 

VI.  THE  NET 98 

Matt.  xiii.  47-50. 

VII.  THE    UNMERCIFUL    SERVANT    OR    THE    UNFORGIVING 

DEBTOR 115 

Matt  xviii.  23-35. 

VIII.   LABORERS     IN     THE     VINEYARD.       FIRST     LAST     AND 

LAST   FIRST 134 

Matt.  XX.  1-16. 


CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

IX.  THE  TWO   SONS 151 

Matt.  xxi.  28-32. 

X.   THE   WICKED    HUSBANDMEN 169 

Matt.  xxi.  33-45- 

XI.   THE    MARRIAGE   OF   THE    KING'S    SON 1S6 

Matt.  xxi.  45— xxii.  14. 

XII.  THE  TEN   VIRGINS 203 

Matt.  XXV.  1-13. 

km.  THE  TALENTS 222 

Matt.  XXV.  14-30. 

XIV.  THE    TWO   DEBTORS 24I 

Luke  vii.  36-50. 

XV.  THE   GOOD   SAMARITAN 257 

Luke  X.  25-37. 

XVI.  THE   RICH   FOOL 275 

Luke  xii.  13-21. 

JCVII.   THE    BARREN     FIG-TREE 292 

Luke  xiii.  6-9. 

XVIII.  THE  GREAT    SUPPER 3IO 

Luke  xiv.  16-24. 

XIX.  THE   LOST   SHEEP  AND  THE   LOST   PIECE  OF  MONEY.  .    328 
Luke  XV.  i-io. 

JCX.    THE    PRODIGAL    SON    AND    HIS    ELDER     BROTHER 345 

Luke  XV.  11-32. 


CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXI.   THE    UNJUST    STEWARD 362 

Luke  xvi.  1-13. 

XXII.    DIVES   AND  LAZARUS 380 

Luke  xvi.  19-31. 

XXIII.   THE    UNJUST    JUDGE 4OG 

Luke  xviii.  1-8,  and  xi.  5-13. 

XXIV.   THE    PHARISEE   AND   THE    PUBLICAN 4X5 

Luke  xviii,  9-14. 


THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 


THE  SOWER. 

Matt.  xiii.  1-9,  18-23;  Luke  viii.4-15. 

This  parable  had  to  be  spoken.  It  gave  ex- 
pression to  thoughts  which  burdened  the  mind  of 
Jesus  throughout  His  ministry.  On  the  day  He 
uttered  it,  he  had  left  the  house  and  was  sitting 
by  the  sea-side,  "  and  there  were  gathered  unto 
Him  great  multitudes."  He  had  no  difficulty  in 
finding  an  audience.  It  is  one  of  the  greatest 
pleasures  to  listen  to  a  good  speaker.  It  is  a 
pleasure  which  attracts  young  and  old,  rich  and 
poor,  educated  and  uneducated.  A  good  speaker 
is  always  sure  of  an  audience,  and  especially  where 
he  has  not  to  encounter  the  rivalry  of  books. 
But  as  Jesus  watched  the  crowd  assembling,  and 
perceived  the  various  dispositions  with  which  the 
people  came.  He  could  not  but  reflect  how  much 
of  what  He  had  to  say  must  certainly  be  lost  on 
many.  He  knew  He  had  that  to  tell  men  which, 
if  received,  would  change  the  face  of  society,  and 

7 


8  THE   PARABLES    OF   OUR   LORD. 

turn  the  wilderness  into  a  garden.  He  was  con- 
scious of  that  in  His  own  mind  which,  could  it 
only  be  conveyed  into  the  minds  of  those  press- 
ing around  Him,  would  cause  their  lives  to  flour- 
ish with  righteousness,  beauty,  love,  usefulness, 
and  joy.  He  had  "  many  things  to  say  "  to  them, 
things  that  never  yet  had  fallen  and  never  again 
could  fall  from  human  lips ;  and  yet  who,  of  the 
thousands  that  listened,  would  believe?  They 
came,  some  out  of  curiosity,  some  saying  within 
themselves,  "  What  will  this  sower  of  words 
say  ?  "  some  out  of  hatred,  seeking  occasion  against 
Him  ;  but  all  thinking  themselves  entitled  to  hold 
and  express  an  opinion  regarding  the  importance 
or  worthlessness  of  what  He  said.  They  needed 
to  have  their  critical  faculty  exercised  upon  them- 
selves, and  to  be  reminded  that  in  order  to  bene- 
fit by  what  He  had  to  say,  they  must  bring  cer- 
tain capacities. 

The  parabolic  form  of  teaching  is  pleasant  to 
listen  to  ;  it  is  easily  retained  in  the  memory  ;  it 
stimulates  thought,  each  man  being  left  to  find 
an  interpretation  for  himself ;  and  it  avoids  the 
offensiveness  of  direct  rebuke.  To  the  crowd 
Jesus  speaks  only  of  the  sower  in  the  fields,  and 
makes  no  explicit  reference  to  Himself  or  to 
them. 

The  object  of  this  parable,  then,  is  to  explain 
the  causes  of  the  failure  and  success  of  the  gos- 
pel.    Apart  from  experience,  it  might  have  been 


THE   SOWER.  9 

supposed  that  our  Lord  had  only  to  proclaim  His 
kingdom  in  order  to  gather  all  men  to  His  stand- 
ard. If  it  were  so  that  God  desired  all  men  to 
enter  into  everlasting  joy,  did  not  this  remove 
every  difficulty,  and  secure  the  happiness  of  all  ? 
Could  such  a  messenger  and  such  a  message  fail  to 
move  every  one  who  came  in  contact  with  them  ? 
Alas  !  even  after  so  many  centuries  Christianity 
is  not  the  one  only  religion  men  believe  in  ;  and 
even  where  it  is  professed,  it  is  most  inade- 
quately understood  and  received.  Why,  then,  is  it 
so  ?  why,  to  so  lamentable  an  extent  does  every 
agency  for  the  extension  of  Christ's  kingdom 
fail  ?  It  fails,  says  our  Lord,  not  because  the 
claims  of  the  kingdom  are  doubtful,  not  because 
they  are  inappropriately  urged — these  causes 
may  no  doubt  sometimes  operate — but  the  king- 
dom fails  to  extend  because  the  fructification  of 
the  seed  of  the  word  depends  upon  the  nature  of 
the  soil  it  falls  upon,  and  because  that  soil  is  often 
impervious,  often  shallow,  often  dirty.  The  seed 
is  not  in  fault,  the  sowing  is  not  in  fault,  but  the 
soil  is  faulty — a  statement  of  the  case  as  little  ac- 
cepted by  those  in  our  own  day  who  discuss 
Christ's  claims,  as  it  was  by  our  Lord's  contem- 
poraries. 

I.  The  first  faultiness  of  soil  our  Lord  speci- 
fies in  the  words,  *'  Some  seeds  fell  by  the  way- 
side, and  the  fowls  came  and  devoured  them 
up  ;  "  and  the  interpretation  or  spiritual  analogue 


lO      THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

He  gives  in  the  words,  "  When  any  one  heareth 
the  word  of  the  kingdom  and  imderstandeth  it  not^ 
then  Cometh  the  wicked  one  and  catcheth  away 
that  which  was  sown  in  his  heart."  The  beaten 
footpath  that  crosses  the  corn-field,  and  that  is 
maintained  year  after  year,  or  the  cart-track 
along  the  side  of  the  field,  may  serve  a  very  use- 
ful purpose,  but  certainly  it  will  grow  no  corn. 
The  hard  surface  does  not  admit  the  seed :  you 
might  as  well  scatter  seed  on  a  wooden  table,  or 
a  pavement,  or  a  mirror.  The  seed  may  be  of  the 
finest  quality,  but  for  all  the  purposes  of  sowing 
you  might  as  well  sprinkle  pebbles  or  shot.  It 
lies  on  the  surface.  This  state  of  matters  then 
represents  that  hearing  of  the  word  which  man- 
ages to  keep  the  word  entirely  outside.  The 
word  has  been  heard,  but  that  is  all.  It  has  not 
even  entered  the  understanding.  It  has  been 
heard  as  men  listen  to  what  is  said  in  a  foreign 
language.  The  mind  is  not  interested ;  it  is 
roused  to  no  inquiry,  provoked  to  no  contradic- 
tion. You  have  sometimes  occasion  to  suggest  a 
different  course  of  action  to  a  friend  ;  and,  in 
order  to  do  so,  you  mention  a  fact  which  should 
be  sufficient  to  alter  his  purpose,  but  you  find  he 
has  not  apprehended  its  significance,  has  not  seen 
its  bearing — it  has  not  fructified  in  his  mind  as 
you  expected,  and  you  say  to  yourself ;  **  He 
does  not  take  it  in."  So  says  our  Lord  :  there 
are  hearers  who  do  not  take  in  what  is  said  ;  they 


THE   SOWER.  II 

do  not  see  the  bearings  of  the  word  they  hear  ; 
their  understanding  is  impervious,  impenetrable. 
Are  there  such  hearers?  Surely  there  are. 
There  are  persons  on  whom  the  seed  of  the  word 
falls  as  by  accident,  and  who  have  neither  pre- 
pared themselves  to  hear  it,  nor  make  any  effort 
to  retain  it.  They  are  members  of  a  church-going 
family,  or  they  have  formed  a  church-going  habit 
of  their  own  ;  they  have  perhaps  their  reason  for 
being  found  side  by  side  with  those  who  hear 
with  profit,  but  they  do  not  come  for  the  sake  of 
hearing;  they  are  not  anxious  to  hear,  thoughtful 
about  what  they  hear,  careful  to  retain  it.  There 
are  careless  persons  who  hear  the  word  not  as  the 
result  of  a  decision  that  it  is  to  be  heard  ;  not  as 
they  would,  on  beginning  the  study  of  chemistry 
or  of  philosophy,  seek  out  certain  teachers  and 
certain  books ;  but  as  the  hearing  of  the  word 
happens  to  be  the  employment  of  the  hour,  they 
submit  to  this  social  convention,  and  they  allow 
the  seed  of  the  kingdom  to  fall  upon  them  with 
no  more  expectation  than  that  with  which  they 
hear  the  passing  salutation  of  a  friend  on  the 
street,  knowing  that  whether  he  says  it  is  a  fine 
day  or  not,  it  is  equally  without  significance.  This 
hearing  of  the  word  has  come  to  be  one  of  the 
many  employments  with  which  men  fill  up  their 
time,  and  this  hearer  has  never  thought  why,  nor 
whether  it  does  him  any  good  or  no.  He  has 
never  considered  why  he  personally  should  listen 


12       THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

to  this  special  kind  of  word,  nor  what  he  person- 
ally may  expect  as  the  result  of  it. 

There  are,  in  short,  persons  who,  either  from 
preoccupation  with  other  thoughts  and  hopes, 
have  their  minds  beaten  hard  and  rendered  quite 
impervious  to  thoughts  of  Christ's  kingdom,  or 
from  a  natural  slowness  and  hard  frostiness  of 
nature,  hear  the  word  without  admitting  it  even 
to  work  in  their  understanding.  They  do  not 
ponder  what  is  heard,  they  do  not  check  the 
statements  they  hear  by  their  own  thought ;  they 
do  not  consider  the  bearings  of  the  gospel  on  them- 
selves. When  you  propose  to  a  farmer  who  is 
paying  too  high  a  rent  to  go  to  some  part  of  the 
country  where  rents  are  lower,  the  idea  will  prob- 
ably find  entrance  into  his  understanding.  He 
may  not  ultimately  adopt  it,  but  it  will  stir  a  great 
many  hopes  and  thoughts  of  various  kinds  in  him, 
and  he  will  find  his  mind  dwelling  on  it  day  after 
day,  and  hour  by  hour,  so  that  he  can  speak  of  little 
else.  But  the  proposals  made  to  the  wayside 
hearer  suggest  nothing  at  all  to  him.  His  mind 
throws  off  Christ's  offers  as  a  slated  roof  throws 
off  hail.  You  might  as  well  expect  seed  to  grow 
on  a  tightly-braced  drum-head  as  the  word  to 
profit  such  a  hearer ;  it  dances  on  the  hard  sur- 
face, and  the  slightest  motion  shakes  it  off. 

The  consequence  is,  it  is  forgotten.  When 
seed  is  scattered  on  a  hard  surface  it  is  not  allowed 
to   lie  long.     The    birds    devour   it    up.     Every 


THE   SOWER.  13 

hedge,  every  tree,  every  roof  contributes  its  eager 
few,  and  shortly  not  a  corn  remains.  So  when 
not  even  the  mind  has  been  interested  in  Christ's 
word,  that  word  is  quickly  forgotten  ;  the  conver- 
sation on  the  way  home  from  church,  the  thought 
of  to-morrow's  occupations,  the  sight  of  some  one 
on  the  street — anything,  is  enough  to  take  it  clean 
away.  In  some  persons  the  word  is  admitted 
though  it  does  not  at  once  bring  forth  fruit.  As 
in  the  old  fable  the  words  spoken  unheard  in  the 
Arctic  circle  were  thawed  into  sound  and  became 
audible  in  warmer  latitudes ;  so  when  a  man 
passes  into  new  circumstances  and  a  state  of  life 
more  congenial  to  the  development  of  Christian 
discipleship,  the  word  which  has  apparently  been 
lost  for  years  begins  to  stir  and  make  itself  heard 
in  his  soul.  But  it  cannot  be  so  with  the  wayside 
hearer,  for  in  him  the  word  has  never  found  any 
manner  of  lodgment. 

2.  The  second  faultiness  of  soil  our  Lord  enu- 
merates is  shallowness.  What  we  commonly 
understand  by  "  stony  ground  "  is  a  field  thickly 
strewn  with  small  stones ;  not  the  best  kind  of 
soil,  but  quite  available  for  growing  corn.  This 
IS  not  the  soil  meant  here.  Our  Lord  speaks 
rather  of  rocky  ground,  where  a  thin  surface  of 
mqjd  overlies  an  impenetrable  rock.  There  is 
a  mere  dusting  of  soil  on  the  surface  ;  if  you  put 
a  stick  or  a  spade  into  it,  you  come  upon  the  rock 
a  few  inches  below.     On  such  ground  the  seed 


14       THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

quickly  springs,  there  being  no  deepness  of  earth 
to  allow  of  its  spending  time  in  rooting  itself.  And 
for  the  same  reason  it  quickly  withers  when  ex- 
posed to  the  fierce  heats  which  benefit  and  mature 
strongly-rooted  plants.  Precocity  and  rapid 
growth  are  everywhere  the  forerunners  of  rapid 
decay.  The  oak  that  is  to  stand  a  thousand  years 
does  not  shoot  up  like  the  hop  or  the  creeper. 
Man  whose  age  is  seventy  years  has  a  slowly 
growing  infancy  and  youth,  while  the  insect  grows 
up  in  a  day  and  dies  at  night  or  at  the  week's  end. 
The  shallow  hearer  our  Lord  distinguishes  by 
two  characteristics  ;  he  straightway  receives  the 
word,  and  he  receives  itjvith  Joy.  The  man  of 
deeper  character  receives  the  word  with  deliber- 
ation, as  one  who  has  many  things  to  take  into 
account  and  to  weigh.  He  receives  it  with  seri- 
ousness, and  reverence,  and  trembling,  foreseeing 
the  trials  he  will  be  subjected  to,  and  he  cannot 
show  a  light-minded  joy.  The  superficial  character 
responds  quickly  because  there  is  no  depth  of  inner 
life.  Difficulties  which  deter  men  of  greater  depth 
do  not  stagger  the  superficial.  While  other  men  are 
engaged  in  giving  the  word  entrance  into  all  the 
secret  places  of  their  life,  and  are  confronting  it 
with  their  most  cherished  feelings  and  ways,  that 
they  may  clearly  see  the  extent  of  the  changes  it 
will  work:  while  they  are  pondering  it  in  the 
majesty  of  its  hope  and  the  vastness  of  its  reve- 
lation ;  while  they  are  striving  to  forecast  all  its 


THE  SOWER.  15 

results  in  them  and  upon  them  ;  while  they  are 
hesitating  because  they  are  in  earnest,  and  would 
receive  the  word  for  eternity  or  not  at  all,  and 
would  give  it  entrance  to  the  whole  of  their  being, 
or  exclude  it  altogether, — while  others  are  doing 
this,  the  superficial  man  has  settled  the  whole 
matter  out  of  hand,  and  he  who  yesterday  was  a 
known  scoffer  is  to-day  a  loud-voiced  child  of  the 
kingdom. 

These  men  may  often  be  mistaken  for  the  most 
earnest  Christians :  indeed  they  are  almost  certain- 
ly taken  to  be  the  most  earnest ;  you  cannot  see 
the  root,  and  what  is  seen  is  shown  in  greatest 
luxuriance  by  the  superficial.  The  earnest  man 
has  much  of  his  energy  to  spend  beneath  the  soil, 
he  cannot  show  anything  till  he  is  sure  of  the 
root.  He  is  often  working  away  at  the  founda- 
tion while  another  is  at  the  copestone.  But  the 
test  comes.  The  very  influences  which  exercise 
and  mature  the  well-rooted  character,  wither  the 
superficially  rooted.  The  same  shallowness  of 
nature  which  made  them  susceptible  to  the  gos- 
pel and  quickly  responsive,  makes  them  susceptible 
to  pain,  suffering,  hardship,  and  easily  defeated. 
It  is  so  in  all  departments  of  life.  The  superficial 
are  taken  with  every  new  thing.  The  boy  is  de- 
lighted with  a  new  study  or  a  new  game,  but  be- 
comes proficient  in  neither.  The  youth  is  charmed 
with  volunteering,  but  one  season  of  early  rising 
is  more  than  he  can   stand :  or  he  is  fascinated 


l6      THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

with  the  idea  that  history  is  an  extremely  profit- 
able kind  of  reading ;  but  you  know  quite  well 
when  he  asks  for  the  loan  of  the  first  volume  of 
Gibbon  or  Grote,  that  he  will  never  come  to  you 
for  the  last.  The  action  of  the  shallow  man  is  in 
every  case  hasty,  not  based  on  a  carefully  consid- 
ered and  resolutely  accepted  plan  :  he  is  charmed 
with  the  first  appearances,  and  does  not  look  into 
the  matter,  and  forecast  results  and  consequences. 
Accordingly,  when  consequences  have  to  be  faced, 
h^  is  not  prepared  and  gives  way. 

But  how,  then,  can  the  shallow  man  be  saved  ? 
Is  there  no  provision  in  the  gospel  for  those  who 
\  are  born  with  a  thin,  poor  nature  ?  This  question 
scarcely  falls  to  be  answered  here,  because  the 
parable  presents  one  truth  regarding  shallow 
natures,  which  is  verified  in  thousands  of  in- 
stances. Men  do  thus  deal  with  the  word,  andthus 
make  shipwreck  of  faith,  and  that  is  all  we  have 
here  to  do  with.  But  passing  beyond  the  par- 
able, it  may  be  right  to  say  that  a  man's  nature 
may  be  deepened  by  the  events,  and  relationships, 
and  conflicts  of  life.  Indeed,  that  much  deepen- 
ing of  character  is  constantly  effected,  you  may 
gather  from  the  fact  that  while  many  young  per- 
sons are  shallow,  the  old  persons  whom  you 
would  characterize  as  shallow  are  comparatively 
few. 

3.  The  third  faultiness  of  soil  which  causes 
faUure  in  the  crop  is  what  is  technically  known  as 


THE  SOWER.  17 

dirL_  The  soil  is  not  impenetrable,  nor  is  it  shal- 
low ;  it  is  deep,  good  land,  but  it  has  not  been 
cleaned  —  there  is  seed  in  it  already.  Sometimes 
you  see  a  field  of  wheat  brilliantly  colored 
throughout  with  poppies  ;  or  a  field  of  oats  which  it 
is  difficult  to  cut  on  account  of  the  dense  growth 
of  thistles,  and  of  rank  grass.  But  the  soil  can 
only  feed  a  certain  amount  of  vegetation,  and 
every  living  weed  means  a  choked  blade  of  corn. 
This  is  a  worse  case  than  the  others.  No  crop 
can  be  looked  for  on  a  beaten  road,  not  much 
can  be  expected  from  a  mere  peppering  of  soil 
upon  rock ;  but  here  there  is  rich,  deep,  loamy  ' 
mould,  that  must  be  growing  something,  and  \ 
would,  if  cared  for,  yield  a  magnificent  harvest, 
and  yet  there  is  little  or  nothing  but  thorns. 

This  is  a  picture  of  the  preoccupied  heart  of 
the  rich,  vigorous  nature,  capable  of  understand- 
ing, appreciating,  and  making  much  of  the  word 
of  the  kingdom,  but  occupied  with  so  many  other 
interests,  that  only  a  small  part  of  its  energy 
is  available  for  giving  effect  to  Christ's  ideas. 
These  ideas  are  not  excluded  from  the  thoughts, 
they  are  welcomed ;  the  mind  is  full  of  intel- 
ligent interest  in  Christian  truth,  and  the  heart 
has  a  real  and  profound  sympathy  with  the  work 
of  Christ  in  the  world  and  with  His  spirit, 
and  yet,  after  all,  little  practical  good  proceeds 
from  the  man — Christian  principle  does  not  come 
to  much  in  his  case— the  life  shows  little  result 


1 8  THE  PARABLES  OF   OUR   LORD. 

of  a  specially  Christian  kind.  The  reason  is 
that  the  man  is  occupied  with  a  multitude  of 
other  views,  and  projects,  and  cares,  and  desires, 
and  the  peculiarly  Christian  seed  does  not  get 
fair  play.  It  influences  him,  but  it  is  hindered 
and  mixed  up  with  so  many  other  influences 
that  the  result  is  scarcely  discernible.  The 
peculiarity  of  a  good  field  of  wheat  is  not 
the  density  of  the  vegetation,  but  that  the  vege- 
tation is  all  of  one  kind,  is  all  wheat.  Leave  the 
field  to  itself,  you  will  in  a  short  time  have  quite 
as  dense  a  vegetation,  but  it  will  be  of  a  multifari- 
ous kind.  That  the  field  bears  wheat  only,  is  the 
result  of  cultivation — not  merely  of  sowing  wheat, 
but  of  preventing  anything  else  from  being  sown. 
The  first  care  of  the  diligent  farmer  is  to  clean 
his  land. 

And  as  there  is  generally  some  one  kind  of  weed 
to  which  the  soil  is  congenial,  and  against  which 
the  farmer  has  to  wage  a  continual  war,  so  our 
Lord  here  specifies  as  specially  dangerous  to  us 
"  the  care  of  this  world  and  the  deceitfulness  of 
riches."  The  care  of  this  world  has  been  called 
the  poor  man's  species  of  the  deceitfulness  of 
riches,  and  the  deceitfulness  of  riches  a  variety  of 
the  care  of  this  world.  There  are  poor  men 
who  have  no  anxiety,  and  rich  men  who  are 
not  misled  by  their  riches  either  into  depend- 
ence on  their  wealth,  or  desire  to  make  it  more. 
But  among  rich  men  and  poor  men  alike  you  will 


THE   SOWER.  19 

find  some  or  many  whoAvould  be  left  without  any 
subject  of  thought,  and  any  guiding  principle  in 
action,  if  you  took  from  them  anxiety  about  their 
own  position  in  life.  It  is  this  from  which  all  the 
fruit  they  bear  springs.  Take  the  actions  of  a 
year,  the  annual  outcome  or  harvest  of  the  man, 
and  how  much  of  what  he  has  produced  you  can 
trace  to  this  seed — to  a  mere  anxiety  about  in- 
come and  position.  This  is  really  the  seed,  this 
is  all  that  is  required  to  account  for  a  large  part  of 
many  men's  actions. 

Our  Lord  therefore  warns  us  that  if  the  word  is 
to  do  its  work  in  us,  and  produce  all  the  good  it  is 
meant  to  produce,  it  must  have  the  field  to  itself. 
It  will  not  do  merely  to  give  attention  to  the  word 
while  it  is  preached  :  the  mind  may  be  clean  on 
the  surface,  while  there  remain  great  knots  of 
roots  below,  which  will  inevitably  spring  up,  and 
by  their  more  inveterate  growth  choke  the  word. 
This  is  the  mistake  of  many.  It  is  proper,  they 
know,  to  hear  the  word — proper  to  give  it  fair 
play.  They  do  make  an  effort  to  banish  worldly 
and  anxious  thoughts,  and  to  give  their  attention 
to  divine  things,  but  even  though  they  succeed  in 
putting  aside  for  the  time  distracting  thoughts, 
what  of  that  if  they  have  not  the  care  of  the  world 
up  by  the  roots?  Cutting  down  won't  do:  still 
less,  a  mere  holding  aside  of  the  thorns  till  the  seed 
be  sown.  What  chance  has  the  seed  in  a  heart 
from  which  these  eager  thoughts   and  hopes  are 


20  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

merely  held  back  for  the  hour  ?  The  cares  of  the 
world  will  just  swing  over  again  and  meet  above 
the  good  seed,  and  shut  out  the  day  and  every 
maturing  influence.  You  receive  to-day  good  im- 
pressions, you  give  the  good  seed  entrance,  and  it 
begins  to  spring  in  you,  it  prompts  you  to  a 
reasonable  generosity  and  self-denial.  To-morrow 
morning  the  tender  blade  of  a  desire  to  purify  and 
prepare  your  spirit  by  some  real  and  devout  con- 
verse with  God  has  sprung  up  in  you,  but  the 
habitual  craving  to  be  at  your  work  and  lose  no 
moment  from  business  crushes  and  chokes  the 
little  blade,  and  it  can  no  more  lift  its  head.  Or 
the  seed  has  produced  even  the  green  ear  of  a 
growing  habit  of  living  under  God's  eye,  of  walk- 
ing with  God  and  bringing  all  your  transactions 
before  His  judgment, — mature  fruit  seems  on  the 
point  of  being  produced  by  you,  when  suddenly 
the  promise  of  a  rich  harvest  is  choked  by  the 
old  coarse  thorn  of  a  fondness  for  rapid  profits, 
which  leads  you  to  ambiguous  language,  and  res- 
ervations, and  unfair  dealings,  such  as  you  feel 
separate  you  from  God,  and  dash  your  spiritual 
ardor,  and  make  you  feel  like  a  fool  and  a  knave 
both,  when  you  speak  of  your  citizenship  being  in 
heaven.  It  is  vain,  then,  to  hope  for  the  only 
right  harvest  of  a  human  life  if  your  heart  is  sown 
with  worldly  ambitions,  a  greedy  hasting  to  be  rich, 
an  undue  love  of  comfort,  a  true  earthlincss  of 
spirit.     One  seed  only  must  be  sown  in  and,  you 


THE   SOWER.  21 

it  will  produce  all  needed  diligence  in  business,  as 
well  as  all  fervor  of  spirit. 

These,  then,  are  the  three  faulty  soils  to  which 
our  Lord  chiefly  ascribes  the  failure  of  the  sow- 
ing. The  question  arises,  Does  the  result  follow 
in  the  moral  sowing  and  in  the  world  of  men  as 
uniformly  and  inevitably  as  it  follows  in  the  sow- 
ing of  corn  in  nature?  In  nature  some  soils  are 
irreclaimable,  vast  tracts  of  the  earth's  surface  are 
as  useless  as  the  sea  for  the  purposes  of  growing 
grain.  They  may  indirectly  contribute  to  the 
fruitfulness  of  corn  lands  by  influencing  the  cli- 
mate, but  no  one  thinks  of  cultivating  these  tracts 
themselves,  of  sowing  the  sands  of  Sahara  or  the 
ice-fields  of  Siberia.  But  the  gospel  is  to  be 
preached  to  every  creature,  because  in  man  there 
is  one  important  distinction  from  material  nature  ; 
he  is  possessed  of  free  will,  of  the  power  of  check- 
ing to  some  extent  natural  tendencies,  and  pre- 
venting natural  consequences.  Accordingly,  we 
cannot  just  accept  the  bare  teaching  of  the  parable 
as  the  whole  truth  regarding  the  operation  of  the 
gospel  in  man's  heart,  but  only  as  one  part  of  the 
truth,  and  that  a  most  important  part.  The  par- 
able enters  into  no  consideration  nor  explanation 
of  how  men  arrive  at  the  spiritual  conditions  here 
enumerated  ;  but,  given  those  conditions — and 
they  are  certainly  common  however  arrived  at — 
given  those  conditions,  the  result  is  failure  of  the 
gospel. 


22  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

In  contrast,  then,  to  these  three  faults  of  im- 
penetrability, shallowness,  and  dirt,  we  may  be 
expected  to  do  something  towards  bringing  to 
the  hearing  of  the  word  a  soft,  deep,  clean  soil  of 
heart,  or,  as  Luke  calls  it,  *'  an  honest  and  good 
heart."  There  are  differences  in  the  crop  even 
among  those  who  bring  good  hearts ;  one  bears 
thirty-fold,  one  sixty,  one  an  hundred-fold.  One 
man  has  natural  advantages,  opportunities  of 
position,  and  so  forth,  which  make  his  yield 
greater.  One  man  may  have  had  a  larger  propor- 
tion of  seed  ;  in  his  early  days  and  all  through  his 
life  he  may  have  been  in  contact  with  the  word, 
and  in  favoring  circumstances.  But  wherever  the 
word  is  received,  and  held  fast,  and  patiently 
cared  for,  there  the  life  will  produce  all  that  God 
cares  to  have  from  it. 

Honesty  is  a  prime  requisite  in  hearing  the 
word,  and  a  rare  one.  Men  listen  honestly  to  a 
lecture  on  science  or  history,  from  which  they  ex- 
pect information  ;  but  where  conduct  is  aimed  at/ 
or  a  vote  is  concerned,  men  commonly  listen  with 
minds  already  made  up.  It  is  notorious  that 
men  vote  as  they  meant  to  vote,  no  matter  what, 
is  said.  If  a  Liberal  were  found  voting  with  Con^ 
servatives  on  any  important  point,  some  mistake 
would  be  supposed.  The  last  thing  thought  of 
would  be  that  his  convictions  had  been  altered  by 
the  speaking.  But  if  we  are  to  hear  the  word  as^ 
we  ought,  we  must  bring  an  honest  heart,  we  mua* 


THE  SOWER.  23 

not  listen  with  a  mind  already  made  up  against 
the  gospel,  with  no  intention  whatever  of  being 
persuaded,  cherishing  purposes  and  habits,  along- 
side of  which  it  is  impossible  the  word  should 
grow.  On  the  contrary,  we  should  consider  that 
this  is  the  seed  proper  to  the  human  heart,  and 
which  can  alone  produce  what  human  life  should 
produce — the  word  of  God,  which  we  must  listen 
to  gratefully,  humbly,  sincerely,  greedily,  and 
with  the  firm  purpose  of  giving  it  unlimited  scope 
within  us.  But  where  is  the  attentive,  pains- 
taking scrutiny  of  the  heart  which  this  demands  ? 
Where  is  the  careful  husbandry  of  our  souls, 
which  would  secure  a  kindly  reception  for  the 
word  ?  Where  is  the  jealous  challenging  of  every 
sentiment,  habit,  influence,  association,  that  begs 
for  a  lodging  within  us  ?  For  where  this  is,  and 
not  elsewhere,  we  may  expect  the  fruit  of  the 
kingdom. 

But  even  this  is  not  enough.  The  fruitful 
hearer  must  not  only  bring  an  honest  and  good 
heart,  he  must  keep  the  word.  The  farmer's  work 
is  not  finished  when  he  has  prepared  the  soil  and 
sown  the  seed.  If  pains  be  not  taken  after  the 
sowing,  the  seed  that  has  fallen  on  good  soil  may 
be  taken  away  as  utterly  as  that  which  has  fallen 
on  the  beaten  path.  The  birds  scatter  over  the 
whole  field.  We  must  therefore  set  a  watcher; 
we  must  send  the  harrow  over  to  cover  in  the 
seed,  and  the  roller  to  give  the  plant  a  better  hold 


24  THE   PARABLES   OF  OUR  LORD. 

on  the  soil.  The  word  must  not  be  allowed  to 
take  its  chance,  once  it  has  been  heard.  Mere 
hearing  does  not  secure  fruit  ;  it  goes  for  nothing. 
Your  labor  is  lost  unless  your  mind  goes  back 
upon  what  you  hear,  and  you  see  that  it  gets 
hold  of  you.  All  of  us  have  already  heard  all 
that  is  necessary  for  life  and  godliness  ;  it  remains 
that  we  make  it  our  own,  that  it  secure  a  living 
root  and  place  in  us  and  in  our  life.  In  order  to 
this  we  must  keep  the  truth  ;  we  must  bear  it  in 
mind,  so  that  whatever  else  comes  before  the 
mind  throws  new  light  on  it,  and  gives  it  a  further 
hold  upon  us.  We  must  not  let  the  events  of  the 
world  and  the  occurrences  of  our  day  thrust  it 
from  our  minds,  but  must  confront  it  with  these, 
and  test  it  by  these,  so  that  thus  it  may  become 
more  real  to  us,  and  have  a  vital  influence.  One 
truth  received  thus,  brings  forth  more  fruit  than 
all  truth  merely  understood.  It  is  not  the  amount 
of  knowledge  you  have,  but  the  use  you  put  it  to 
— it  is  not  the  number  of  good  sayings  you  have 
heard  and  can  repeat,  that  will  profit  you,  but  the 
place  in  your  hearts  you  have  given  them,  and 
the  connection  they  have  with  the  motives,  and 
principles,  and  ruling  ideas  of  your  life. 

And,  therefore,  meditation  has  always  been, 
and  must  always  be,  reckoned  among  the  most 
indispensable  means  of  grace.  Since  ever  saints 
were,  their  saintliness  has  been  in  great  part  due 
to  a  habit  of  meditation.     Without  it,  the  other 


THE   SOWER.  25 

means  of  grace  remain  helplessly  outside  of  us. 
The  word  does  not  profit  except  the  mind  be 
actively  appropriating  God's  message  and  revolv- 
ing it.  Prayer  is  but  a  deluding  form,  that  means 
nothing,  expects  nothing,  and  receives  nothing, 
if  meditation  has  not  provided  its  material.  Un- 
less a  man  think  upon  his  life  and  try  his  ways,  his 
confession  can  but  remove  the  scum  from  the 
surface, leaving  the  heart  burdened  and  polluted; 
for  the  graver  sins  do  not  float,  but  sink  deep, 
and  must  be  dragged  for  with  patience  and  skill, 
if  not  descried  through  a  very  rare  natural  clear- 
ness and  simplicity  of  character.  It  is  in  the  still- 
ness and  quiet  of  our  hours  of  reflection,  when 
the  gusts  of  worldly  engagements  and  desires 
have  died  down,  that  the  seeds  of  grace  are  de- 
posited in  our  souls.  It  is  then  that  our  thoughts 
are  free  to  recognize  reasons  of  humility  and 
causes  of  thankfulness.  It  is  then  that  the 
thought  of  God  resumes  its  place  in  our  souls, 
and  that  the  unseen  world  reasserts  its  hold  upon 
us.  It  is  then  only  that  the  soul,  taking  a  delib- 
erate survey  of  its  own  matters,  can  discover  its 
position  and  necessities,  can  assert  its  claims  and 
determine  its  future,  can  begin  the  knowledge  of 
all  things  by  knowing  itself.  So  that,  "  if  there  is 
a  person,  of  whatever  age,  or  class,  or  station,  who 
will  not  be  thoughtful,  who  will  not  seriously  and 
honestly  consider,  there  is  no  doing  him  any  good." 
But  there  is  probably  no  religious  duty  so  dis- 


26      THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

tasteful  as  meditation  to  persons  whose  habits  are 
formed  in  a  state  of  society  like  our  own.  We 
are,  for  the  most  part,  infected  by  the  hastiness 
and  overdone  activity  of  the  business  world.  The 
rapidity  and  exactness  of  mechanical  action  rule 
and  regulate  all  our  personal  movements.  We 
are  learning  to  value  only  what  gives  us  speedily 
and  uniformly  achieved  and  easily  appreciated 
results.  We  are  civilized  so  nearly  to  one  com- 
mon level,  and  are  in  possession  of  so  many  ad- 
vantages which  hitherto  have  been  the  monopoly 
of  one  class,  that  competition  is  keener  than  ever 
before ;  and  all  our  time  and  energy  are  de- 
manded for  the  one  purpose  of  holding  our  own 
in  things  secular.  But  the  dissatisfaction  with 
slow  processes,  and  the  desire  to  get  a  great  deal 
through  our  hands,  must  be  checked  when  we 
come  to  the  work  of  meditation.  There  are  proc- 
esses in  nature  which  you  can't  hurry.  You 
must  let  your  milk  staiid,  if  you  wish  cream. 
And  meditation  is  a  process  of  mind  whose  nec- 
essary element  is  the  absence  of  hurry.  We 
must  let  the  mind  settle  and  discharge  itself  of 
all  irritating  distractions  and  fevering  remem- 
brances or  hopes ;  we  must  reduce  it  to  an 
equable  state,  from  which  it  can  look  out  dispas- 
sionately upon  things,  and  no  longer  see  the  one 
engrossing  object,  but  all  that  concerns  us  in  due 
proportion  and  real  position.  The  soul  must 
learn  to  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  the  importunate  re- 


THE   SOWER.  2y 

quirements  of  the  daily  life,  and  turn  leisurely 
and  with  an  unpreoccupied  mind  to  God.  Were 
it  only  to  keep  the  world  at  bay,  and  teach  the 
things  of  it  their  subordinate  place,  these  medita- 
tive pauses  of  the  soul  were  of  the  richest  use. 

A  third  and  last  requisite  for  the  fructification 
of  the  seed  is,  according  to  Luke,  patience.  The 
husbandman  does  not  expect  to  reap  to-morrow 
what  he  sowed  to-day.  He  does  not  incontinently 
plow  up  his  field  again,  and  sow  another  crop, 
if  he  does  not  at  once  see  the  ripe  corn.  He 
watches  and  waits,  and  through  much  that  is  dis- 
appointing and  unpromising,  nurses  his  plants  to 
fruitfulness.  We  also  must  learn  with  patience 
to  bring  forth  fruit  ;  not  despairing  because  we 
cannot  at  once  do  all  we  would  ;  not  sinking  under 
the  hardships,  sacrifices,  failures,  sorrows,  through 
which  we  must  win  our  growth  to  true  fruit-bear- 
ing, but  animating  and  cheering  our  spirits  with 
the  sure  hope  that  the  seed  we  have  received  is 
vital,  and  will  enable  us  to  produce  at  last  the 
sound  and  ripe  fruit  our  lives  were  meant  to  yield. 
We  must  have  patience  both  to  endure  all  the 
privations,  all  the  schooling,  all  the  trial  of  various 
kinds  which  may  be  needful  to  bring  the  seed  of 
righteousness  to  maturity  ;  and  also  to  go  on  zeal- 
ously yielding  the  perhaps  despised  fruits  which 
are  alone  possible  to  us  now,  and  striving  always 
to  strike  our  roots  deeper  and  deeper  into  the  true 
life. 


THE  TARES. 

Matt.  xiii.  24-30,  36-43. 

In  this  parable  Christ  warns  His  servants 
against  expecting  to  see  in  this  world  that  un- 
mixedly  good  condition  of  society  which  will  at 
length  be  brought  about  in  the  world  to  come. 
The  kingdom  of  heaven  is  to  have  universal  sway, 
it  is  to  stand  without  rival  and  without  mixture 
of  evil,  but  the  time  is  not  yet.  Those  who  are 
themselves  within  this  kingdom  must  beware  of 
acting  as  if  the  final  judgment  were  already  passed. 

At  all  times  those  who  believe  in  God  have 
been  perplexed  by  the  fact  that  this  world  is  so 
far  from  a  condition  of  unmingled  good.  Is  it 
not  God's  world  ?  He  could  not  sow  bad  seed. 
Whence  then  the  tares  ?  Sometimes  this  has 
pressed  very  heavily  on  the  faith  of  men.  It 
seems  so  unaccountable  a  thing  that  the  field  of 
God  should  not  produce  an  unexceptionable 
harvest.  We  believe  that  God  created  the  world, 
and  created  it  for  a  purpose,  and  originated  what- 
ever was  needful  for  the  accomplishment  of  this 
purpose.  Whatever  has  proceeded  from  Him  can 
have  been  only  good.  No  degenerate  or  noxious 
grain  can  have  escaped  His  hand.     And  yet,  look 


THE   TARES.  29 

at  the  result.  How  difficult  in  some  parts  of  the 
field  to  see  any  fruit  of  God's  sowing  ;  how  mixed 
everywhere  is  the  evidence  that  this  is  God's  field. 
Is  it  not  the  ill-cultivated  patch  of  a  careless  pro- 
prietor, of  the  ill-conditioned,  unworkable  tract  on 
which  the  wealthy  owner  has  not  wasted  the  labor 
which  might  better  be  expended  elsewhere  !  Has 
God  mistaken  the  capabilities  of  His  field,  or  does 
He  not  care  to  develop  them  ?  or  does  He  like 
this  mingled  crop  ?  Does  He  not  sympathize  with 
His  servants  when  they  grieve  over  this  sad  waste  ? 
Has  murder  a  horror  only  for  us?  does  falsehood 
excite  no  indignation  but  in  us?  are  violence  and 
lust,  disease  and  wretchedness  matters  of  indif- 
ference to  God  ?  What  do  we  see  in  the  world  ? 
Centuries  of  folly,  passion,  toil,  and  anguish ; 
countries  desolated  by  the  vices  of  their  inhab- 
itants ;  diseases  which  the  most  skilful  cannot 
alleviate,  nor  the  most  callous  view  without  a 
shudder ;  sorrow  and  sin  more  bitter,  more  cruel, 
more  appalling  than  any  disease.  And  this  is  the 
lot  of  God  ;  here  He  delights  to  dwell.  On  no 
field  of  all  His  possessions  has  He  spent  more. 
Well  may  we  join  with  the  servants  and  say,  "  Sir, 
didst  not  Thou  sow  good  seed  in  Thy  field  ?  From 
whence  then  hath  it  tares  ?  " 

But  Christ  comes  and  inaugurates  a  new  order 
of  things,  and  all  evil  will  disappear  from  earth. 
Man's  natural  condition  is  but  the  dark  back- 
ground on  which  the  saving  grace  of  God  may 


30       THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

display  its  brilliant  effects.  God  Himself  comes 
and  dwells  with  men,  rolling  back  the  heavy 
darkness  with  the  light  of  His  presence  and  wis- 
dom, infusing  His  own  life  into  all.  Now  will  the 
earth  yield  her  increase.  Alas!  the  failure  of  the 
harvest  of  God  is  in  many  respects  even  more 
conspicuous  in  the  Church  of  Christ  than  in  the 
non-Christian  world.  The  very  method  adopted 
to  redeem  the  failure  of  the  original  creation 
seems  itself  also  to  be  in  great  part  failure.  We 
are  perplexed  when  we  find  wild  and  useless  veg- 
etation in  the  outlying  wilderness,  but  when  we 
enter  the  garden  of  God,  and  within  that  re- 
deemed enclosure  still  find  weeds  and  disorder, 
our  perplexity  deepens  into  dismay.  Yet  the 
fact  is  that,  with  scarcely  an  exception,  all  the 
useless  and  pernicious  plants  found  outside  Chris- 
tendom are  found  also  within.  Where  is  there  to 
be  found  a  more  passionate  greed  of  gain,  or  a 
more  self-indulgent  luxury,  or  a  more  thorough- 
going worldliness  than  among  the  masses  of  the 
trading  Christian  races  ?  The  gambling,  the  un- 
scrupulous hasting  to  be  rich,  the  cruel  and 
heart-hardening  selfishness  that  abound  in  our 
own  society  are  only  made  more  deceptive  and 
dangerous  by  being  crossed  with  plants  of 
heavenly  origin,  and  by  disguising  their  true 
nature  under  the  flowers  of  Christian  utterances, 
occasional  charities,  seeming  repentances,  and  in- 
effective purposing  of  better  things.     Lust  and 


THE  TARES.  3 1 

villainy,  fraud,  malice,  cruelty, — these  noxious 
plants  flourish  within  as  without  the  Christian 
pale.  And  it  is  within  Christendom  we  must 
look,  if  we  would  see  some  of  the  worst  species 
of  human  iniquity.  One  is  ashamed  to  read  the 
history  of  the  Church.  Beside  the  good  corn 
whose  full  ear  bends  in  humble  maturity  of  serv- 
ice, the  deadly  plant  of  delusive  self-righteous- 
ness rears  its  pretentious  and  empty  head.  Ig- 
norance, fear,  and  self-seeking  have  imitated 
every  Christian  grace,  till  the  whole  ground  is 
covered  with  an  overgrowth  that  hides  from  the 
eye  the  healthy  plants  of  Christ's  own  sowing. 
Insincerity,  superstition,  obscurantism,  intoler- 
ance, pious  fraud,  the  prostitution  of  the  highest 
interests  of  men  to  aims  the  most  contemptible 
and  vile,  the  disguising  of  a  rotten  character 
under  a  professed  faith  and  hope  of  the  most 
elevating  and  glorious  kind, — these  are  the  plants 
which  flourish  in  the  garden  of  God.  All  that  is 
double,  all  that  is  mean,  all  that  is  craven,  all  that 
is  shallow  and  earthly  in  human  nature,  seems  to 
be  stimulated  by  this  cultivated  soil.  The  field 
which  was  to  be  the  nursery  of  free  souls  who, 
with  eyes  unsealed  to  see  the  true  beauty  of  eter- 
nal goodness,  should  devotethemselves  with  cour- 
age and  generosity  to  the  common  good,  has  be- 
come a  paddock  in  which  the  timorous  seek  ref 
uge  from  a  future  they  dread,  and  in  which  every 
low  desire  thinks  it  may  burrow  with  impunity. 


32      THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

Looking  at  Christendom   as    it    actually  is,   we 

may  well  ask,    Is  this  what  Christ    sowed  ?     Is 

;  this  what  He  has  produced  on  earth?     Is  this  the 

i  kind  of  Christendom  He  intended?     "Sir,  did'st 

•  not  Thou  sow  good   seed  in  Thy  field  ?     From 

whence  then  hath  it  tares  ?  " 

The  explanation  of  this  disappointing  state  of 
matters  is  given  in  the  words,  *'  An  enemy  hath 
done  this."  It  is  not  the  result  of  Christianity, 
but  of  agencies  opposed  to  Christianity.  To  sow 
a  neighbor's  field  with  noxious  seed  is  in  some 
countries  a  common  device  for  venting  spite  or 
wreaking  vengeance  ;  and  a  more  villainous  in- 
jury can  scarcely  be  imagined.  It  blasts  hope  ; 
it  is  a  long  grievance,  daily  meeting  the  eye  and 
wearing  out  the  spirit  till  the  harvest ;  it  spoils 
the  crop  and  injures  the  soil.  It  seems  to  say 
that  all  this  time,  from  day  to  day,  I  have  an 
enemy  who  hates  me,  so  that  there  can  be  no 
truer  joy  to  him  than  that  which  gives  me  sorrow. 
He  cannot  be  happy  if  I  am.  My  happiness  is 
his  misery  ;  my  misery  his  greatest  happiness. 
This  is  his  spirit,  the  spirit  of  the  Evil  One,  by 
whomsoever  shown  ;  a  spirit  not  wholly  absent 
from  our  relations  with  other  men,  but  betrayed 
even  when  we  suppose  ourselves  to  be  animated 
with  righteous  indignation  or  warrantable  re- 
venge. 

There  is  something  characteristically  devilish 
too,  in  the  deed  being  done  "  when  men  slept ;  ** 


THE  TARES.  33 

when  the  sun  has  gone  down  and  the  wrath  of 
man  begins  to  quiet  and  cool ;  when  men  of  right 
mind  are  resolving  not  to  act  in  heat,  or  be  pro- 
voked to  unworthy  and  low-toned  iniquities,  but 
to  think  over  their  matters;  when  they  are 
perhaps  dreaming  that  they  are  once  again 
boys  together,  and  walking  folded  in  one  an- 
other's arms;  when  the  stillness  and  solemn 
grandeur  of  night  rebuke  the  loud  clamor  and 
petty  wranglings  of  men  ;  when,  at  least,  a  pause 
is  given  to  sin,  this  spirit's  malignity  tires  not, 
but  like  the  beasts  of  prey  is  roused  to  a  livelier 
activity,  and  recognizes  the  darkness  and  quiet  as 
his  peculiar  season.  In  him  there  is  no  folding 
of  his  hands  from  evil,  no  wearying,  no  hesitation 
in  his  course,  no  questioning  whether,  after  all, 
this  is  not  too  bad,  no  desire  to  mingle  with  it  a 
little  good,  no  desire  of  rest  or  forgetfulness,  but 
the  grateful  memory  of  past  wickedness  inciting 
him  to  new  iniquities. 

Such  being  the  state  of  the  field,  and  such  its 
cause,  what  are  the  servants  to  do  ?  ''  Wilt  Thou 
that  we  go  and  gather  out  these  tares?"  Men 
are  ever  for  prompt  measures.  ''  Lord,  wilt  Thou 
that  we  command  fire  to  come  down  from  heaven 
and  consume  them?  "  Few  understand  the  spar- 
ing of  profligate  cities  for  the  sake  of  ten  righteous 
men.  We  inwardly  grudge  that  there  should  be 
so  little  difference  now  manifested  between  God's 
treatment  of  the  righteous  and  the  wicked  ;  and 
3 


34  THE  PARABLES   OF  OUR  LORD. 

that  it  should  only  at  intervals  appear  that  the 
former  are  His  peculiar  possession.  Did  our 
feelings  rule  the  world,  we  should  allow  very  few 
tares  to  appear.  We  cannot  wait,  but  must  an- 
ticipate the  harvest.  This  and  that  other  effective 
propagator  of  falsehood,  would  it  not  be  well  if 
he  were  out  of  the  way  ?  Would  not  good  men 
come  to  a  quicker  and  more  fruitful  maturity, 
were  they  not  continually  damaged  by  the  blight- 
ing influences  of  skeptical  literature,  worldly  so- 
ciety, superficial  religionists  ? 

"  Let  both  grow  together  until  the  harvest,** 
is  the  law  of  the  Master.  Again  and  again  the 
Church  has,  in  the  face  of  this  parable,  taken 
upon  her  to  root  out  infidels  and  heretics.  The 
reasoning  has  been  summary :  We  are  Christ's, 
these  men  are  Satan's,  let  us  destroy  them.  All 
such  attempts  violently  to  hasten  the  consum- 
mation, and  to  make  the  field  of  the  world  appear 
uniform,  have  most  disastrously  hindered  the 
growth  of  true  religion.  The  servants  have 
wrought  a  more  frightful  desolation  and  barren- 
ness in  the  field  than  anything  which  could  have 
resulted  from  the  existence  of  the  tares. 

It  is,  indeed,  not  always  easy  to  know  how  far 
we  should  act  upon  the  acknowledged  fact  of  a 
man's  ungodliness.  In  this  country  there  is  a 
strong  feeling  against  opinions  which  are  believed 
to  be  dangerous  ;  perhaps  it  may  be  said  that  the 
animosity    excited    by    a    man's    profession   of 


THE  TARES.  35 

atheism  is  more  vehement  and  active  than  that 
which  immorality  excites.  And  though,  happily, 
we  do  not  now  go  so  far  as  to  remove  such  persons 
from  the  world,  we  do  not  scruple  to  visit  them 
with  serious  social  and  civil  disabilities.  Now 
this  parable  emits  the  law  regarding  such  persons. 
It  does  not  say  the  world  is  as  it  ought  to  be ;  it 
does  not  say  there  is  no  distinction,  or  a  very 
insignificant  one,  between  good  and  bad  men,  or 
between  Christians  and  atheists ;  but  it  enjoins 
upon  us  the  necessity  of  refraining  from  acting 
upon  this  distinction  to  the  injury  of  any.  Pun- 
ishments must  be  inflicted  by  society  on  its  in- 
jurious members,  but  not  on  the  score  of  their 
ungodliness  or  unprofitableness  in  Christ's  king- 
dom. The  distinction  between  a  criminal  and  a 
benefactor  of  his  country  may  not  be  so  great  as 
between  a  ripe  Christian  and  a  full-blown  atheist  ; 
but  while  we  are  compelled  to  act  upon  the 
former  distinction,  and  pluck  up  the  criminal 
from  his  place,  and  banish  him  from  our  society, 
the  latter  distinction  is  not  fully  manifested,  and 
must  not  be  fully  acted  upon  in  this  world.  The 
man  who  habitually  swears,  or  leads  a  grossly 
immoral  life,  or  propagates  infidelity,  may  do  a 
great  deal  more  harm  than  the  starving  boy  who 
steals  a  loaf ;  but  we  are  called  upon  to  punish 
the  latter  and  not  the  former.  And  in  so  far  as 
we  damage  the  prospects,  or  asperse  the  good 
name,   of   any   man   because    we    consider  him 


30      THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

"  tares,"  and  not  wheat,  in  so  far  we  fly  in  the 
face  of  this  parable. 

The  reasonableness  of  this  method  of  delay 
is  sufficiently  obvious.  Within  the  Church  itself 
it  is  often  impossible  even  to  be  as  sure  as  the 
servants  of  the  parable  were  that  there  is  darnel 
sown  among  the  wheat,  or  at  least  to  discriminate 
between  the  wheat  and  the  darnel.  An  opinion, 
or  a  practise,  which  is  at  first  sight  condemned  as 
scandalous  or  full  of  danger,  may  turn  out  to  be 
sound  and  wholesome.  But  if  no  time  be  allowed 
it  to  grow,  if  it  be  summarily  pronounced  tares, 
and  thrown  over  the  hedge,  the  good  fruit  it 
might  have  borne  is  thrown  away  with  it.  Truth 
may  be  in  the  minority — always  is  at  first  in  the 
minority  ;  and  if,  as  the  servants  view  the  field, 
they  merely  take  a  vote  as  to  what  is  wholesome 
and  what  poisonous,  they  are  likely  enough  to  do 
evil  rather  than  good. 

And  even  where  it  is  certain  that  evil  has 
sprung  up  in  the  Church,  it  is  a  further  question 
whether  it  should  be  summarily  removed.  This 
parable,  it  is  true,  is  not  the  guide  for  the  action 
of  the  rulers  of  the  Church  towards  its  members  ; 
but,  indirectly,  a  warning  against  hasty  action  is 
given  to  those  in  authority.  False  doctrine  may 
sometimes  be  more  easily  got  rid  of,  if  it  be  re- 
garded in  silence,  or  with  a  few  words  of  convinc- 
ing exposure,  than  if  it  be  signalized  with  assault. 
No  man  who  had  any   regard   for  his  field  would 


THE   TARES,  3/ 

carry  a  seeding  thistle  through  every  part  of  it, 
and  give  it  a  shake  in  every  corner. 

But  our  Lord  Himself  in  the  parable  assigns 
two  reasons  for  this  abstinence  from  immediate 
action.  First,  you  are  not  to  root  up  tares,  be- 
cause you  will  inevitably  root  up  good  corn  with 
them.  It  is  almost  impossible  to  pull  up  a  single 
stalk  of  corn  by  the  root  ;  you  may  break  it  off, 
but  if  you  take  up  its  root  you  are  almost  sure  to 
bring  away  with  it  a  number  of  other  stalks  and 
a  mass  of  soil.  The  one  root  refuses  to  be 
detached  from  the  rest — a  striking  representation  f 
of  what  happens  when  injury  is  inflicted  on  any 
member  of  society.  You  cannot  injure  one 
man  and  one  only.  In  him  you  strike  his  chil- 
dren, his  friends,  his  followers  if  he  be  a  man 
of  influence.  No  man  is  so  forlorn  that  none 
will  be  made  lonelier  by  his  death,  or  be  em- 
bittered or  saddened  by  his  misfortune.  We 
live  for  the  most  part  in  little  circles,  bound  one 
to  the  other  by  indissoluble  relationships,  nur- 
tured from  one  soil,  and  matured  by  common 
interests  and  feelings.  And  these  circles  are  not 
separate  from  one  another,  but  some  member  of 
your  circle  belongs  also  to  another ;  and  so  the 
whole  world  is  linked  together,  and  you  cannot 
put  forth  your  hand  and  strike  any  man  whose  ' 
pain  shall  not  be  felt  by  others,  nor  thrust  him 
from  you  without  repelling  all  who  are  attached 
to  him.     And  of  those  who  are  attached  to  him. 


38    The  parables  of  our  lord. 

are  you  sure  there  are  none  who  belong  to  the 
kingdom,  no  little  blade  springing  up  by  his  root, 
which,  did  you  let  it  grow,  would  abound  in  fruit  ? 
For,  that  a  man  is  evil  himself,  is  no  proof  that 
all  his  connections  are  evil.  On  the  contrary,  an 
ungodly  man  will  often  cling  to  those  who  belong 
to  the  kingdom,  as  if  somehow  they  must  find 
entrance  for  him  along  with  themselves.  A  father 
who  cannot  change  his  own  ways  nor  yield  the 
opinions  of  his  youth,  seeks  to  protect  his  chil- 
dren from  the  influences  that  destroyed  himself, 
and  to  atone  for  his  own  barrenness  by  their  pro- 
ductiveness. Some  who  are  held  as  by  a  terrible 
fatality  from  winning  the  kingdom,  will  yet 
entreat  others  to  use  violence  to  enter  it.  Even 
the  most  profligate  have  commonly  some  one  ripe 
and  living  soul  devoted  to  them,  who  could  wish 
that  himself  were  accursed  for  their  kinsmen 
according  to  the  flesh. 

But  this  first  reason  rests  upon  the  second  : 
and  that  is,  that  the  time  is  coming  when  the 
distinction  between  the  wheat  and  the  tares  is 
to  be  acted  upon.  Only  let  a  man  accept  the 
account  here  given  of  the  end  of  the  tares,  and 
he  will  have  very  little  desire  to  anticipate  or 
hasten  that  end.  When  God  says,  "  Vengeance 
is  mine,  I  will  repay,"  we  feel  that  the  darkest 
injustice  and  wrong-doing  will  be  adequately 
taken  account  of.  When  we  reflect  that  what 
has  roused  our  indignation  has  also  been  observed 


THE  TARES.  39 

by  God,  and  will  be  dealt  with  by  Him,  not  only 
is  our  indignation  mitigated,  but,  in  view  of  the 
judgment  of  God,  our  pity  is  moved  towards  the 
transgressor.  We  were  about  to  punish  as  if  we 
were  the  offended  party,  as  if  we  saw  the  matter 
in  all  its  bearings  and  could  justly  judge  it,  and 
as  if  we  had  the  right  punishment  at  hand ;  but 
when  this  final  judgment  looms  in  sight  we  see 
how  different  are  God's  judgments  and  God's 
punishments  from  ours,  and  an  awful  pity  pos- 
sesses us.  Believe  that  the  bar  of  God  lies  across 
the  path  of  each  of  us,  believe  that  a  veritable 
sifting  of  men  is  to  be,  and  that  all  men  are  to  be 
allotted  to  suitable  destinies,  and  compassion  will 
extinguish  every  other  feeling  you  may  have 
cherished  towards  the  wicked.  The  position  in 
which  we  in  this  life  are  is  full  of  awe,  and  fitted 
also  to  engender  in  us  the  tenderest  feelings  one 
towards  another — growing  up  as  we  are  side  by 
side,  but  with  destinies  perhaps  immeasurably 
wide  asunder ;  here  for  a  little  united  root  to 
root,  and  yet,  it  may  be,  severed  to  all  eternity. 
Could  any  position  be  better  calculated  to  banish 
from  our  minds  all  indifference  to  one  another's 
prospects,  all  sullen  and  revengeful  feelings,  all  va- 
riance and  hatred,  and  to  quicken  within  us  a  true 
affection  and  compassion,  a  considerate  and  help- 
ful tenderness  ? 

The  bearing  of  this  parable,  then,  on  ourselves 
cannot  be  mistaken.     Wheat  and  darnel,  it  says, 


4Q      THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

are  almost  identical  in  appearance,  and  are,  in 
the  meantime,  treated  as  if  the  one  was  as 
valuable  as  the  other ;  but  let  them  grow,  and 
the  fruit  will  prove  that  the  root  principle  of  the 
one  is  different  as  possible  from  the  other ;  the 
one  is  good  food,  the  other  poison.  And  they 
will  eventually  be  treated  accordingly.  Every- 
thing must  ultimately  find  its  place  according  to 
its  nature  ;  not  according  to  its  appearance,  nor 
according  to  any  pretensions  put  forward  in  its 
behalf,  but  only  and  simply  according  to  its  own 
real  character  and  quality.  Each  of  us  is  growing 
to  something,  and  from  some  root.  No  one 
may  be  able  to  say — perhaps  you  yourself  are 
unable  to  say — to  which  kind  and  to  what 
root  you  belong;  perhaps  you  cannot  confi- 
dently affirm  what  it  is  to  which  you  are  grow- 
ing, but  beneath  all  appearances  there  is  in  you 
a  real  character,  a  root  that  determines  what  you 
shall  grow  to.  As  we  grow  up  in  society  together, 
one  man  is  in  the  main  very  like  another.  Of 
two  of  your  friends,  it  may  be  the  one  who 
makes  least  profession  of  religion  that  you  would 
go  to  in  a  difficulty  in  which  much  generous  help 
and  toil  are  needed.  Take  a  regiment  of  soldiers 
or  a  ship's  crew,  and  you  may  find  the  ungodly 
as  brave  and  self-sacrificing  in  action,  as  observ. 
ant  of  discipline  as  the  others.  There  may  be 
little  to  show  that  there  is  a  radical  difference  in 
character ;  sometimes,  of  course,  this  difference 


THE  TARES.  41 

is  very  rapidly  manifested,  but  in  general  there 
is  so  much  similarity  as  to  make  it  notorious  that 
the  Church  is  not  distinctly  marked  off  from  the 
world.  Society  does  resemble  a  field  in  which 
the  wheat  and  the  darnel  are  still  in  the  blade, 
and  can  be  discriminated  only  by  a  very  careful 
observer. 

So  that,  first,  this  is  apt  to  make  the  darnel 
think  itself  as  good  as  the  wheat.  If  we  merely 
look  at  appearances  we  are  apt  to  think  that, 
take  us  all  round,  there  is  not  much  to  choose 
between  the  wheat  and  us.  We  see  in  truly 
Christian  people  evil  tempers,  a  revengeful,  ty- 
rannical, ungenerous  spirit,  we  detect  bitterness 
and  meanness  in  them,  sometimes  sensuality, 
and  a  keen  eye  for  worldly  advantage,  and  we  are 
encouraged  to  believe  that  really  we  stand  com- 
parison with  them  very  favorably.  So  no  doubt 
you  do.  The  world  would  be  insufferable  if  all 
men  had  the  spirit  which  many  Christians  show. 
But  that  is  not  the  point.  The  question  is  not 
whether  you  are  not  at  present,  to  all  appearance, 
as  useful  and  pleasant  a  member  of  society  as 
they;  but  the  question  is,  whether  there  is  not 
that  in  them  which  will  grow  to  good,  and 
whether  there  is  not  that  in  you  which  will  grow 
to  evil.  Do  you,  that  is  to  say,  sufficiently  con- 
sider this  parable,  which  most  frankly  admits 
that  at  present,  so  far  as  things  have  yet  grown, 
there  may  be  no  very  marked  difference  between 


42  THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

the  children  of  the  kingdom  and  others,  but  at 
the  same  time  emphatically  declares  that  the  root 
is  different,  and  that,  therefore,  the  life  is  really  of 
a  different  quality,  and  will  in  the  long  run  appear 
to  be  different  ?  The  question  is,  what  is  your 
root^  What  is  it  that  is  producing  the  actual 
life  you  are  making,  and  the  actual  character  you 
are  growing  into?  What  is  the  motive  power? 
Is  it  mere  desire  to  get  on,  or  craving  for  a  good 
position  among  men  ?  Is  it  respect  for  your  own 
good  name  ?  or  are  you  a  child  of  the  kingdom  ? 
Are  you  the  result  of  the  word  of  the  kingdom  ? 
that  is,  is  your  conduct  being  more  and  more 
animated  and  regulated,  and  is  your  character 
being  more  and  more  formed,  by  the  belief  that 
God  calls  you  to  live  for  Him  and  for  eternity? 
Do  you  like  this  world  really  better  than  one  in 
which  you  have  a  hope  only  of  spiritual  joys,  of 
true  fellowship  with  God,  and  holiness  of  heart  ? 
Can  you  make  good  to  your  own  mind,  that  in 
some  quite  intelligible  sense  you  are  rooted  in 
Christ,  and  grow  out  of  Him  ?  It  is  the  root 
you  live  from  which  will  eventually  show  itself 
in  you,  and  determine  your  eternal  position. 

Again,  the  urgency  of  the  call  to  Christ  is 
deadened  by  the  fact  that  we  are  not  treated 
differently  at  present.  Men  argue  :  we  get  on 
well  enough  now,  and  the  future  will  take  care  of 
itself.  But  this  is  to  brush  aside  at  a  blow  all 
that  we  are  told  of  the  connection  of  the  present 


THE   TARES;  43 

With  the  future.  This  state  bears  to  a  coming 
world  the  relation  which  seed-time  bears  to  har- 
vest. No  violence  will  be  done  to  you  at  present 
to  convince  you  that  you  are  useless  to  God. 
No  judgment  will  be  declared,  no  punishment  in- 
flicted— that  were  out  of  season,  for  in  this  Hfe 
we  are  left  to  choose  freely  and  without  com- 
pulsion, whether  we  desire  to  be  in  God's  king- 
dom or  not.  In  this  life  you  must  judge  yourself 
and  do  violence  to  yourself.  But  this  argues 
nothing  regarding  the  future  life.  It  is  only  then 
a  beginning  is  made  of  treatment  corresponding 
to  character. 

Lastly,  not  only  is  the  darnel  apt  to  think  itself 
as  good  as  the  wheat,  but  the  wheat  is  apt 
to  think  itself  no  better  than  the  darnel.  You 
can  never  outstrip  others  in  good  as  you  would 
like.  You  are  troubled  because  they  seem  to  be 
as  regular,  as  zealous,  as  successful  in  duty  as 
you.  Possibly,  too,  they  are  not  only  as  judicious 
in  conduct,  as  generous,  as  true,  of  as  good  report 
as  yourselves,  but,  moreover,  exercise  a  healthier 
influence  than  you  do  on  those  they  live  with. 
Some  natural  infirmity  of  temper  has  fixed  its 
indelible  brand  on  you,  something  which  makes 
you  less  attractive  and  less  influential  than  you 
might  otherwise  be.  Or  perhaps  you  are  choked 
by  uncongenial  surroundings,  kept  down  in  growth 
by  the  tares  around  you,  often  betrayed  into 
sins  which  better  company  would    have    made 


44  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

impossible.  Are  you  somehow  continually  kept 
back  from  growing  to  all  you  feel  you  might 
grow  to  ?  Is  there  good  in  you  that  has  never 
yet  been  elicited  ?  Look  then  to  the  end,  when 
"  the  righteous  shall  shine  forth  as  the  sun  in  the 
kingdom  of  their  Father."  Be  sure  only  that 
there  is  that  in  you  which  will  shine  forth  if  the 
hindrances  and  blinds  are  removed.  There  is  no 
change  to  pass  on  the  wheat  ;  but  only  the  tares 
shall  be  taken  away,  and  it  will  stand  revealed, 
good  corn.  Bring  forth  your  fruit  in  patience  : 
maintain  the  real  distinction  between  good  and 
evil,  and  at  last  it  will  be  apparent. 


THE  MUSTARD  SEED. 

Matt.  xiii.  31,  ^2. 

Neither  the  parable  of  the  Sower  nor  the 
parable  of  the  Tares  was  calculated  to  elate  those 
who  were  interested  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 
The  hindrances  and  disappointments  incident  to 
the  establishment  of  that  kingdom  were  too  plain- 
ly stated  to  be  gratifying.  It  was  not  exhilarat- 
ing to  the  hearers  of  these  parables  to  learn  that 
the  state  of  things  to  which  they  had  eagerly 
looked  forward  as  the  realization  of  their  ideal, 
and  the  embodiment  of  all  excellence,  could  not 
be  actually  achieved  on  earth.  In  this  parable 
of  the  mustard  seed  our  Lord  turns  the  other 
side  of  the  picture,  and  affirms  that  the  little 
movement  already  stirring  society  would  grow  to 
vast  dimensions  ;  that  the  influences  He  was  in- 
troducing so  unobtrusively  into  human  history 
were  vital,  and  would  one  day  command  attention 
and  be  productive  of  untold  good.  He  does  not 
anticipate  the  parable  of  the  leaven,  and  explain 
the  precise  mode  of  the  spread  of  Christianity, 
but  merely  predicts  the  fact  of  its  growth.  He 
invites  us  to  compare  the  visible  cause  with  the 
visible  result ;  he  directs  our  thoughts  to  the  two 

45 


46  THE  PARABLES  OF   OUR   LORD. 

facts  of  the  small  beginning  and  the  ultimate 
grandeur  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  and  suggests 
that  the  reason  of  this  growth  is  that  the  origi- 
nating principle  of  the  kingdom  has  vitality  in  it. 
It  is  the  study  of  the  laws  of  growth  which  in 
recent  years,  has  given  so  great  an  impulse  to 
human  knowledge  and  to  the  delight  men  find  in 
nature.  How  this  world  has  come  to  be  what  it 
is ;  its  rude  and  unpromising  beginnings,  and  its 
steady  progress  towards  perfection  ;  the  develop- 
ment of  an  infinitely  various  and  complicated  life 
from  a  few  rudimentary  forms  ; — these  have  been 
the  commonest  subjects  of  scientific  investigation. 
It  has  been  shown  that  everything  we  are  our- 
selves now  connected  with  has  grown  out  of  some- 
thing which  went  before ;  that  nothing  is  self- 
originated.  The  growth  of  languages  and  relig- 
ions, of  customs  and  forms  of  government,  of 
races  and  nations,  has  been  traced;  and  a  new 
interest  has  thus  been  imparted  to  all  things,  for 
everything  is  found  to  have  a  history  which  car- 
ries us  back  to  the  most  unlikely  roots,  and  is  full 
of  surprises.  Creation  excites  wonder  ;  but  growth 
excites  an  intelligent  admiration  and  wonder  as 
well.  For,  after  all  investigation  and  exposition 
of  its  laws,  growth  remains  marvelous.  That  the 
swift-flying  bird,  sensitive  to  the  remotest  atmos- 
pheric changes,  should  grow  out  of  the  motion- 
less, strictly  encased  egg,  is  always  an  astonish- 
ment.    That  the  wide-branching  tree,  hiding  the 


THE  MUSTARD   SEED.  4/ 

sky  with  its  foliage,  should  be  the  product  of  a 
small,  insignificantly  shaped  seed,  never  ceases  to 
excite  wonder.  Nothing  could  well  be  more  un- 
like the  bird  than  the  egg ;  nothing  less  like  a 
tree  than  the  seed  it  has  grown  out  of ;  but  by 
an  unseen  and  ultimately  inscrutable  force  the 
egg  becomes  a  bird,  and  the  seed  grows  into  a 
tree.  To  see  the  stateliest  pile  of  building  filling 
the  space  which  before  was  empty,  makes  an  ap- 
peal to  the  imagination  :  that  kind  of  increase  Ave 
seem  to  understand ;  stone  is  added  to  stone  by 
the  will  and  toil  of  man.  But  when  we  look  at 
the  deeply-rooted  and  wide-branching  tree,  and 
think  of  the  tiny  seed  from  which  all  this  sprang 
without  human  will  or  toil,  but  by  an  internal 
vitality  of  its  own,  we  are  confronted  by  the  most 
mysterious  and  fascinating  of  all  things,  the  life 
that  lies  unseen  in  nature. 

In  the  difference,  then,  between  the  beginning 
and  the  maturity  of  our  Lord's  kingdom  there  was 
nothing  exceptional.  The  same  difference  may 
be  observed  in  the  case  of  almost  every  person  or 
influence  that  has  greatly  helped  mankind.  Many 
of  the  inventions  to  which  we  are  hourly  indebted 
entered  the  world  like  little  seeds  casually  blown 
to  their  resting-place  ;  they  floated  on,  unheeded, 
unobserved,  till  at  last,  apparently  by  the  merest 
chance,  they  caught  somewhere,  and  became  pro- 
ductive. It  is  the  very  commonness  of  this  career, 
from  small  to  great,  to  which  our  Lord  appeals 


4B  THE    PARABLES   OF  OUR  LORD. 

for  the  encouragement  of  His  disciples.  Here  is 
the  least  among  seeds ;  it  flies  before  your  breath  ; 
it  is  not  noticed  in  the  balance ;  a  miser  would 
scarce  trouble  himself  to  blow  it  from  the  scale  ; 
the  hungry  bird  will  not  pause  in  his  flight  to 
pick  it  up  ;  but  let  a  few  years  go  by,  and  that 
seed  shall  have  become  a  tree,  in  which  the  birds 
of  the  air  may  lodge,  and  which  no  force  can  up- 
root. The  seed,  as  you  now  see  it,  is  doing  and 
can  do  nothing  that  the  tree  does  ;  it  casts  no 
shade,  it  shelters  no  birds,  it  yields  no  fruit  or 
timber,  it  does  not  fill  the  eye  and  complete  the 
landscape ;  but  give  it  time,  and  it  will  do  all 
these  things,  as  nothing  else  will  or  can. 

In  this  parable,  then,  our  Lord  gave  expression 
to  three  of  the  ideas  which  frequently  recurred  to 
His  mind  regarding  the  kingdom  of  heaven  : — 
1st.  Its  present  apparent  insignificance  ;  2d.  Its 
vitality  ;  3d.  Its  future  grandeur. 

I.  Our  Lord  recognized  that  to  the  unin- 
structed,  ordinary  observer  His  kingdom  must  in 
its  origin  appear  insignificant,  "  the  least  of  all 
seeds."  It  might  seem  less  likely  to  prevail,  and 
to  become  a  universal  benefit,  than  some  other 
contemporary  systems  or  influences.  In  point  of 
fact,  so  extravagant  did  Christ's  claim  to  be  a 
benefactor  of  the  race  appear,  that  those  who 
wished  to  mock  Him  could  devise  no  more  telling 
and  bitter  taunt  than  to  bow  before  Him  and 
salute  Him  as  a  king.     That  such  a  tame-spirited, 


THE    MUSTARD    SEED.  49 

forsaken  person  should  attain  a  place  among  the 
strong-handed  rulers  of  the  world  seemed  alto- 
gether too  preposterous.  The  Roman  magistrate, 
before  whom  He  was  arraigned  on  the  charge  of 
rebellion  against  Caesar,  found  it  difificult  to  treat 
the  charge  seriously.  Open  the  histories  of  His 
time,  and  your  eyes  are  dazzled  with  the  mag- 
nificence of  other  monarchs,  and  the  magnitude  of 
their  words,  but  He  is  barely  named — so  little 
known,  that  He  is  sometimes  misnamed  through 
sheer  ignorance.  It  was  no  discredit  to  the  most 
learned  and  accurate  of  historians  to  know  noth- 
ing of  Jesus  Christ.  This  obscurity  and  insignifi- 
cance would  not  have  been  disconcerting  to  the 
followers  of  a  mere  teacher,  for  the  best  teaching 
is  rarely  appreciated  in  the  first  generation ;  but 
as  our  Lord  claimed  to  be  a  lawgiver  and  real 
king,  it  certainly  did  not  bode  well  for  His  king- 
dom that  during  His  lifetime  so  few  obeyed  or 
even  knew  Him. 

The  very  circumstance  that  He  was  a  Jew 
might  have  seemed  to  those  of  His  contempora- 
ries who  were  best  able  to  judge,  enough  in  itself 
to  ensure  the  defeat  of  any  purpose  of  universal 
sway.  The  exclusive  character  of  the  religious 
and  social  ideas  of  the  Jew,  and  the  hostility  with 
which  this  exclusiveness  was  returned  by  other 
nations,  seemed  to  make  it  most  improbable  that 
all  men  should  be  brought  into  one  common 
brotherhood  and  community  by  a  Jev/.  More- 
4 


50  THE  PARABLES   OF  OUR   LORD. 

over,  Jesus  Himself  was  no  Hellenist,  whose  Jew- 
ish ideas  might  have  been  modified  by  Greek 
learning  and  cosmopolitan  associations  and  cus- 
toms ;  but  He  was  a  Jew  of  purest  blood  and  up- 
bringing, educated  in  all  Jewish  customs  and 
ideas,  and  subjected  to  the  ordinary  Jewish  influ- 
ences, never  visiting  other  lands,  and  rarely 
speaking  to  any  but  His  own  countrymen.  So 
far  as  we  know.  He  made  no  inquiries  into  the 
state  of  other  countries,  and  read  no  books  to 
inform  Himself;  He  did  not  send  emissaries  to 
Rome,  inviting  men  to  consider  His  claims ;  He 
made  no  overtures  of  any  kind  to  men  at  a  dis- 
tance ; — that  is  to  say.  He  did  not  present  Him- 
self as  a  grown  tree  branching  friendly  outwards, 
to  which  might  flock  the  birds  of  the  air  which 
had  been  driven  out  by  the  winter  of  their  own 
land,  and  had  wandered  far  in  search  of  food,  and 
were  weary  from  their  long  flight. 

Even  among  His  own  people,  from  whom  He 
might  have  expected  a  hearty  welcome  and  loyal 
advocacy,  He  met  with  either  contemptuous 
neglect  or  positive  opposition.  He  obtained  no 
recognized  standing,  even  among  the  Jews. 
Those  who  formed  the  opinions  of  society  pro- 
nounced Him  an  impostor,  and  the  people  were 
so  completely  convinced  by  them,  that  they  clam- 
ored for  His  death.  The  few  who  were  at- 
tached to  Him,  and  who  thoroughly  believed  in 
His  sincerity  and  spiritual  greatness,  persistently 


THE  MUSTARD   SEED.  5 1 

misunderstood  the  essential  parts  of  His  purpose 
and  teaching.  They  could  not,  even  to  the  last, 
rid  their  minds  of  the  natural  impression  that  His 
being  crucified  as  a  malefactor  was  the  end  of  all 
their  hopes.  And  is  it  not  probable  that  even 
Jesus  Himself,  as  He  was  ignominiously  hurried 
to  His  death  by  a  handful  of  Roman  soldiers, 
may  have  been  tempted  to  think,  What  is  there 
in  this  to  regenerate  a  world  ?  Will  such  an 
everyday  incident  even  be  remembered  next  Pass- 
over ?  Certainly,  so  far  as  appearances  went,  and 
in  the  judgment  of  all  who  saw  and  were  inter- 
ested, His  kingdom  was  at  that  time  comparable 
to  anything  but  a  firmly-rooted  and  flourishing 
tree. 

After  the  resurrection  of  Christ,  His  kingdom 
became  slightly  more  visible,  but  its  prospects 
must  still  have  seemed  extremely  doubtful.  A 
handful  of  men,  none  of  them  having  much  weight 
in  the  community,  or  being  in  any  way  remark- 
able, compose  the  force  which  is  to  conquer  the 
world.  To  win  a  single  soul  to  an  unpopular 
cause  is  difficult,  but  these  men  were  summoned 
to  the  task  of  converting  all  nations.  They  had 
no  ancient  institutions,  no  well-tried  methods, 
no  strong  associations,  no  funds,  no  friends  to 
back  them.  On  the  contrary,  everything  seemed 
banded  against  them.  Teachers,  who  disagreed 
in  all  else,  combined  to  scorn  the  folly  of  the 
cross  ;  emperors,    who  would  allow  every  other 


52  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

form  of  religion,  could  not  tolerate  that  of  Jesus. 
Everywhere  the  world  was  already  preoccupied 
by  ancient  and  jealously-guarded  religions,  by 
habits,  and  ideas,  and  traditions  adverse  to  the 
spirit  of  Christ.  The  instrument,  too,  which 
was  to  convert  the  world  seemed  as  powerless  as 
the  men  who  were  to  wield  it.  They  were  to  tell 
of  Jesus,  of  His  life,  His  death.  His  resurrection. 
Was  it  not  vain  to  expect  that  remote  and  bar- 
barous races  would  become  so  attached  to  a 
person  they  had  never  seen,  that  they  would 
govern  their  passions  and  amend  their  lives  for 
His  sake  ?  Was  it  likely  that,  on  the  word  of 
unknown  men,  the  person  of  an  unknown  man 
should  become  the  center  of  the  world,  command- 
ing the  adherence  of  all,  and  imparting  to  all  the 
most  powerful  influences? 

2.  But  at  the  very  moment  when  our  Lord  was 
most  conscious  of  the  poor  figure  His  kingdom 
made  in  the  eyes  of  men,  He  was  absolutely 
confident  of  its  final  greatness,  because,  small  as 
it  was,  it  was  of  the  nature  of  seed.  It  had  a  vital 
force  in  it  that  nothing  could  kill ;  a  germin- 
ating and  expansive  power  which  would  only 
be  quickened  by  opposition.  His  own  death, 
the  obscurity  and  limitation  to  which  His  cause 
was  at  first  subjected,  were  not,  He  knew,  the 
first  symptoms  of  permanent  oblivion,  but  were 
only  the  sowing  of  the  seed.  He  was  no  more 
anxious  than  the  farmer  is  who,  for  the  first  week 


THE    MUSTARD    SEED.  ^3 

or  two,  sees  no  appearance  of  his  plants  above 
ground.  Our  Lord  knew  that,  could  He  only  get 
His  kingdom  accepted  at  even.one  small  point  of 
earth,  the  growth  would  inevitably  and  in  good 
time  follow. 

There  are  certain  human  qualities,  ideas,  utter- 
ances, and  acts  which  are  vital  and  must  grow. 
They  have  in  them  an  expansive,  living  energy  ; 
they  sink  into  the  hearts  and  minds  of  men,  and 
propagate  a  lasting  influence.  What,  then,  is  the 
vital  element  in  Christianity  ?  What  is  it  that  has 
given  permanence  and  growth  to  the  kingdom  of 
Christ?  What  did  Christ  plant  that  no  one  else 
has  planted  ?  What  is  it  that  keeps  Him  in  un- 
dying remembrance,  and  gathers  from  each  new 
generation  fresh  subjects  for  His  kingdom  ?  It 
is  not  the  wisdom  and  beauty  of  His  teaching. 
That  might  have  led  us  to  immortalize  His  words 
by  reprinting  and  quoting  them.  Neither  is  it 
solely  the  holiness  of  His  life,  or  the  love  He 
showed.  These  might  have  kindled  in  us  admi- 
ration, but  could  never  have  prompted  that  real 
allegiance  which  is  implied  in  a  kingdom.  But  it 
is  chiefly  the  revelation  of  God  in  Him  which 
draws  men  to  Him.  In  His  death  and  resurrec- 
tion we  get  assurance  of  Divine  love  and  Divine 
power  abiding  in  Him.  It  is  God  in  Him  that 
draws  us.  We  cleave  to  him,  because  through 
Him  we  are  lifted  to  God  and  to  eternity.  In  His 
brief  career  He  gives  us  a  perception   of  the  real- 


54      THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

ity  of  the  spiritual  world,  the  permanence  of  the 
individual,  and  the  nearness  and  love  of  God, 
which  nothing  else  gives  us.  In  Him  men  meet 
a  God  satisfying  all  their  expectations  ;  so  de- 
voted to  their  interests,  that  He  lives  and  dies 
with  them,  and  for  them ;  so  hopeful  regarding 
them,  that  He  proclaims  pardon  and  newness  of 
life  to  sinners  ;  so  victorious  over  all  the  evils 
weighing  upon  man,  that  He  conquers  death  itself, 
and  throws  open  to  all  the  gates  of  life  everlast- 
ing. 

The  seed  is  the  highest  product  of  the  plant  : 
the  fruit  is  but  the  accompaniment  of  the  seed ; 
it  is  into  the  seed  that  the  plant  each  year  puts 
its  life.  So  in  man,  the  ripest  product  of  the 
individual,  the  actions  or  words  into  which  he 
gathers  up  his  whole  character  and  strength, — 
it  is  these  which  are  vital  and  germinant.  The 
vital  element  in  the  life  of  Christ  cannot  be  mis- 
taken :  it  was,  in  a  word,  the  Divine  Son  giving 
Himself  for  us  ;  God  expressing  the  fulness  of 
Divine  Sympathy  and  sacrifice  in  our  behalf — 
a  seed,  surely,  from  which  great  things  must 
spring. 

3.  Our  Lord  points  to  the  eventual  greatness 
of  His  kingdom.  The  despised  seed,  ground 
into  the  soil  under  the  heel  of  contempt  ar.d 
hatred,  will  become  a  tree,  Avhose  leaves  shall  be 
for  the  healing  of  the  nations.  The  disciples 
do  not  seem  to  have  gathered  from  this  parable 


THE   MUSTARD    SEED.  55 

the  encouragement  which  was  laid  up  for  them 
in  it ;  but  an  instructed  onlooker  might  have 
admonished  the  crucifiers  of  the  Lord  that  they 
were  fulfilling  His  words — "That  cross  which 
you  are  setting  up,  and  which  you  will  take 
down  before  the  sun  is  set,  shall  stand  in  the 
thought  of  countless  millions  as  the  point  of 
earth  most  illuminated  by  the  light  of  heaven  ; 
that  blood  which  you  are  shedding,  as  you 
would  pour  water  out  of  your  way  on  the 
ground,  is  to  be  recognized  by  your  fellow-men 
and  by  God  as  precious,  as  that  by  which  the 
souls  of  men  are  redeemed  and  purified." 

The  kingdom  of  heaven  has  indeed  become 
a  tree.  It  would  be  difficult  to  count  even  the 
greater  branches  of  it  ;  difficult  to  number  the 
various  twigs  which  depend  upon  the  central 
stem  ;  impossible  to  count  the  leaves  or  to  form 
an  idea  of  the  fruit  which,  through  past  years, 
has  gradually  ripened  and  fallen  from  it.  This 
religion  which  emanated  from  a  country  so 
detested  by  the  surrounding  nations  that  they 
might  be  expected  to  say  of  it,  as  the  Jews 
themselves  of  Nazareth,  "  Can  any  good  thing 
come  out  of  Judea?" — this  religion  propagated 
by  Jews  who  had  become  Christians,  so  that 
being  excommunicated  by  their  own  country- 
men, and  naturally  hated  by  all  other  people, 
they  seemed  the  most  unlikely  instruments  to 
commend  new  ideas;   this   religion  which  could 


56       THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

offer  no  high  posts  or  secular  rewards,  and 
numbered  few  wise,  wealthy,  or  noble  among 
its  adherents ;  which  would  not  tolerate  other 
religions,  and  yet  proclaimed  doctrines  which 
excited  the  ridicule  of  the  educated;  which 
demanded  from  all  alike,  not  only  an  abso- 
lutely pure  morality  and  a  repulsive  and  hum- 
bling self-renunciation,  but  a  newness  of  spirit 
impossible  to  the  natural  man  ;  this  religion  which 
seemed  to  have  everything  against  it,  which 
seemed  like  a  sickly  child  which  it  was  scarcely 
worth  calling  by  a  name  to  be  remembered  as 
a  living  thing, — this  has  grown  to  be  the  greatest 
of  all  powers  for  good  in  the  world.  The  seed 
determines  the  character  of  all  that  springs 
from  it ;  the  quality  of  the  fruit  and  its  abun- 
dance may  vary  with  the  nature  of  the  soil  and 
with  the  presence  or  absence  of  careful  cultiva- 
tion and  other  advantages,  but  the  tree  will 
still  be  recognizable  as  of  that  kind  to  which 
the  seed  belonged.  And  as  the  seed  of  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  was  love  and  holiness  and 
Divine  power,  so  have  similar  fruits  been  borne 
by  men  wherever  the  kingdom  has  come.  The 
outmost  branch,  looking  in  an  opposite  direc- 
tion from  the  distant  branches  on  the  other 
side  of  the  tree,  and  apparently  quite  dissoci- 
ated from  these  branches,  is  still  identified  with 
them  by  the  fruit  it  bears.  Wherever  in  all 
these  past  ages,  and  in  all  the  scattered  countries 


THE  MUSTARD   SEED.  5/ 

of  Christendom,  there  has  been  a  Christ-like 
life ;  wherever  sinners  have  been  drawn  to  love 
God  and  hate  their  sin  through  the  knowledge 
of  the  cross ;  wherever  in  hope  of  a  blessed 
immortality  men  have  borne  the  sorrows  of 
time  without  bitterness,  and  committed  their 
dead  to  the  grave  in  expectation  of  a  life  be- 
yond,— there  the  seed  Christ  sowed  has  been 
showing  its  permanent  vitality. 

The  figure  of  the  tree  inevitably  suggests 
other  considerations  regarding  the  Church,  be- 
sides those  which  are  directly  taught  in  the 
parable.  The  tree,  with  its  single  stem  and 
countless  branches,  is  only  too  true  a  picture 
of  the  diverging  belief  and  worship  of  those 
who  own  a  common  root  in  Christ.  Sometimes, 
indeed,  one  is  tempted  to  compare  the  Church 
to  one  of  those  trees  in  which  the  branches 
diverge  as  soon  as  they  appear  above  ground, 
so  that  you  cannot  tell  whether  the  tree  is 
really  one  or  many.  In  some  of  its  aspects, 
again,  the  church  resembles  the  huge  tree  that 
stands  on  the  village  green,  looking  benignly 
down  on  the  joys  of  the  young,  and  giving 
shade  and  shelter  to  the  aged,  seeing  genera- 
tion after  generation  drop  away  like  its  own 
leaves,  but  itself  living  through  all  with  the 
freshness  of  its  early  days;  its  lower  bark  only 
marked  by  the  ambition  of  those  who  have 
sought    to    identify    their   now   scarcely    legible 


58       THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

names  with  its  undecaying  life,  but  whose  work 
has  after  all  not  entered  into  the  life  of  the  tree, 
but  only  marred  its  external  hull.  Again,  we 
see  that  some  of  the  lowest,  earliest  grown 
branches  are  quite  dead  or  drooping  ;  that 
Christianity  has  passed  from  the  people  among 
whom  it  first  found  root,  and  that  satyrs  dance 
where  the  praises  of  Christ  were  once  sung.  It 
would  almost  seem  as  if  there  were  a  melan- 
choly accuracy  in  the  figure  used  in  the  parable, 
and  that  the  tree,  having  once  attained  its  full 
dimensions,  grows  no  more.  After  some  years 
the  rapid  growth  which  was  so  striking  in  the 
young  tree  is  no  longer  discernible.  It  main- 
tains equal  or  perhaps  stronger  life,  but  spring 
after  spring  you  look  in  vain  for  any  discernible 
increase  in  size.  But  certain  it  is  that  this 
plant  which  Christ  planted  has  shown  vitality, 
drawing  nutriment  from  every  soil  in  which  it 
has  been  tried,  and  assimilating  to  its  own  life 
and  substance  all  that  is  good  in  the  soil,  using 
the  faculties  and  accomplishments,  the  literary 
or  artistic  or  commercial  leanings  and  gifts  of 
the  various  races  so  as  to  further  the  true  wel- 
fare of  men  ;  gathering  strength  from  sunshine 
and  storm  alike,  cherishing  a  hidden  life  through 
the  long  winters  when  every  branch  seemed 
hopelessly  dead,  and  drawing  supplies  of  vital- 
izing moisture  from  sources  beyond  the  ken  of 
man    when    the  scorching  heats   threatened    to 


THE   MUSTARD    SEED.  59 

wither  up  every  living  leaf.  The  tree  is  grow- 
ing  now,  gradually  absorbing  into  itself  all  the 
widening  thoughts  of  men,  and  by  the  chemistry 
of  its  own  life  extracting  nutriment  from  criti- 
cism, from  philosophy,  from  research,  from  social 
and  political  movements,  from  everything  that 
forms  the  great  stirring  human  world  in  which 
it  is  rooted  ;  not  afraid  to  stand  out  in  the  open 
and  face  the  day,  but  gaining  vigor  from  every 
brisker  air  that  tosses  its  branches. 

This  parable  was  spoken  for  the  encourage- 
ment of  the  disciples :  it  is  needed  still  for  the 
encouragement  of  all  who  are  interested  in  the 
extension  of  Christ's  kingdom.  In  many  respects 
our  outlook  is  even  more  hopeless  than  that  of  the 
first  disciples.  The  novelty,  the  first  enthusiasm, 
the  external  signs,  are  all  gone  ;  the  solidarity  of 
the  Church  is  also  gone,  and  in  its  place  we  have 
to  overcome  the  discrediting  exhibitions  of  dis- 
cord and  internal  conflict,  as  well  as  the  weaken- 
ing influence  of  skepticism,  and  the  slowly  cor- 
roding materialism  that  is  destroying  the  very 
foundations  of  religion.  The  missionary  enter- 
prise of  the  first  disciples  seems  never  to  have  ex- 
tended very  far  from  the  Mediterranean  coasts. 
They  were  unaware  of  the  vast  multitudes  be- 
yond, and  of  the  solidity  and  attractiveness  of 
some  of  the  religions  already  in  occupation  ; 
whereas  to  the  eye  of  the  modern  Church  popula- 
tions are   disclosed,   numbered   by  hundreds   oi 


60       THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

millions,  and  adhering  to  religions  more  ancient 
and  more  outwardly  impressive  than  our  own. 
Our  zeal,  too,  is  slackened  by  the  very  fact  that 
all  this  yet  remains  to  be  done ;  that  Christianity 
should  have  been  growing  for  nearly  two  thousand 
years,  and  that  it  has  not  yet  convinced  all  men 
of  its  superiority,  and  that  in  places  where  it  has 
been  most  ardently  received  it  has  borne  fruit  of 
which  every  man  must  feel  ashamed. 

To  all  persons  who  are  disheartened,  whether 
by  the  apparent  fruitlessness  of  their  own  efforts 
or  by  the  slow  growth  of  the  Church  at  large,  this 
parable  says.  You  must  measure  things  not  by 
their  size,  but  by  their  vitality.  What  you  can 
do  may  be  very  little,  and  once  it  is  done  there 
may  be  no  sign  of  results  ;  but  if  you  put  your- 
self into  it,  if  it  come  from  the  heart — a  heart 
whose  earnestness  and  hope  are  the  result  of  con- 
tact with  Christ — then  fruit  will  one  day  be 
borne.  You  must  have  some  imagination.  You 
must  have  some  faith  that  will  enable  you  to  wait 
patiently  for  fruit.  Make  sure  that  what  you  sow 
is  good  seed  ;  that  what  you  teach  your  children 
is  true  ;  that  what  you  strive  to  introduce  into 
society  is  sound  and  helpful ;  that  the  ideas  you 
propagate,  the  charity  you  support,  the  industry 
you  seek  to  advance,  are  all  such  as  belong  to  the 
kingdom  of  Christ,  and  you  may  be  sure  your 
labor  is  not  lost.  You  may  not  see  the  results 
gf  your  actions.     You  may  not  see  full  grown  the 


THE   MUSTARD   SEED.  6t 

trees  of  your  planting,  but  your  children  will  lie 
under  their  shade,  and  dream  of  your  sheltering 
forethought,  and  strive  to  fulfil  your  best  pur- 
poses. Do  not  be  discouraged  because  all  is 
not  yet  done  on  earth,  and  much  remains  for  you 
to  do  ;  do  not  be  discouraged  because  there  is  room 
for  sacrifice  and  faith,  devotedness,  and  wisdom, 
and  love,  and  skill.  It  is  not  hot-house  results 
we  seek  to  produce,  nor,  like  the  Indian  jugglers, 
to  make  a  tree  visibly  shoot  up  by  sleight  of  hand. 
What  we  look  for  is  the  real  growth  of  human 
good,  and  this  can  be  accomplished  by  no  rapid 
and  magical  processes,  but  only  by  the  patient 
nutrition  of  the  soil  by  all  that  is  truest  and  deep- 
est in  human  nature,  and  by  all  that  is  most  real 
and  most  testing  in  human  effort.  Honestly  seek 
the  growth  of  this  tree,  and  be  not  too  greatly  dis- 
mayed by  the  portentous  difficulties  of  the  task. 
"  He  that  observeth  the  wind  shall  not  sow,  and 
he  that  regardeth  the  clouds  shall  not  reap.  As 
thou  knowest  not  what  is  the  way  of  the  spirit, 
even  so  thou  knowest  not  the  works  of  God  who 
maketh  all.  In  the  morning  sow  thy  seed,  and 
in  the  evening  withhold  not  thy  hand,  for  thou 
knowest  not  whether  shall  prosper,  either  this  or 
that,  or  whether  they  both  shall  be  alike  good." 
In  conclusion,  is  it  not  relevant  to  ask  whether 
we  have  joined  the  Christian  Church,  because  it 
is  large,  or  because  it  is  living?  Simon  in  the 
temple  held  all  Christendom  in  his  arms,  and  yet 


62  THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

felt  sure  the  redemption  of  the  world  was  nigh. 
Is  your  faith  like  his?  Is  it  the  Person  of  Christ 
and  not  what  has  grown  round  His  person  that 
you  cleave  to?  Do  you  find  t/iat  in  Christ  which 
compels  you  to  say  that,  though  you  were  the 
only  Christian,  yourself  the  Church  visible,  you 
must  abide  by  Him?  Is  there  some  independ- 
ence in  your  choice,  some  individuality  in  your 
experience?  Can  you  say,  with  some  signifi- 
cance, "  I  know  Him  in  whom  I  have  believed  "  ? 
or  do  you  but  adopt  the  fashion  that  prevails, 
and  feel  the  propriety  and  safety  of  going  with 
the  majority?  In  any  case  it  is  well  that  you 
recognize  that  there  is  this  tree  planted  by  the 
Lord  Himself,  and  still  growing  upon  earth. 
There  is  upon  earth  a  society  of  men  not  always 
easy  to  find,  but  in  true  sympathy  with  Him  ;  a 
progress  of  human  affairs  to  which  He  gave  the 
initial  impulse.  There  is  on  earth  a  tree,  the 
seed  of  which  is  His  own  life,  whose  growing  bulk 
embodies,  from  generation  to  generation,  all  that 
exists  in  the  world  of  His  purpose  and  work.  The 
good  He  intended  for  men  He  deposited  in  that 
seed.  He  came  to  impart  to  men  permanent 
blessings.  He  saw  our  condition,  recognized  what 
we  needed,  and  introduced  into  the  world  what 
He  knew  would  achieve  the  happiness  of  every 
one  of  us. 


THE  LEAVEN. 

Matt.  xiii.  33. 

This  parable  directs  attention  to  two  points 
connected  with  the  spread  of  Christianity.  It 
illustrates — 

1.  First,  the  kind  of  change  which  Christianity- 
works  in  the  world  ;  and 

2.  Second,  the  method  by  which  this  change  is 
wrought. 

I.  First,  our  Lord  here  teaches  that  the  change 
which  He  meant  to  effect  in  the  world  was  a 
change,  not  so  much  of  the  outward  form,  as  of 
the  spirit  and  character  of  all  things.  The  prop- 
agation of  His  influence  is  illustrated  not  by  the 
figure  of  a  woman  taking  a  mass  of  dough  and 
baking  it  up  into  new  loaves  of  a  shape  hitherto 
unseen ;  but  by  the  figure  of  a  woman  putting 
that  into  the  dough  which  alters  the  character  of 
the  whole  mass.  She  may  set  on  the  table  loaves 
that  are  to  all  appearance  the  same  as  the  old, 
but  no  one  will  taste  them  without  perceiving 
the  difference.  The  old  shapes  are  retained,  the 
familiar  marks  appear  still  on  the  loaves,  but  it  is 
a  different  bread.  The  appearance  remains  the 
same,  the  reality  is  altered.  The  form  is  retained, 
but  the  character  is  changed. 

63 


04  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

There  are  two  ways  in  which  you  may  rev- 
olutionize any  country  or  society.  You  may 
either  pull  down  all  the  old  forms  of  government, 
or  you  may  fill  them  with  men  of  a  different 
spirit.  If  an  empire  is  going  to  ruin,  you  may 
either  change  the  empire  into  a  republic,  or  you 
may  put  the  right  man  in  the  office  of  emperor. 
If  any  society  or  club  or  association  has  become 
effete  and  a  nuisance,  doing  harm  instead  of  good, 
you  may  reform  it  either  by  revising  its  constitu- 
tion, making  new  laws  and  regulations,  and  so 
making  it  a  new  society,  or  you  may  fill  its  official 
positions  with  men  of  a  right  spirit,  leaving  its 
form  of  constitution  untouched.  A  watch  stops, 
and  somebody  tells  you  it  needs  new  works,  but  the 
watchmaker  tells  you  it  only  needs  cleaning.  A 
machine  refuses  to  work,  and  people  think  the 
construction  is  wrong,  but  the  skilled  mechanic 
pushes  aside  the  ignorant  crowd  and  puts  all  to 
rights  with  a  few  drops  of  oil.  *'  Your  bread  is 
unwholesome,"  says  the  public  to  the  baker,  and 
he  says,  "  Well,  I'll  send  you  loaves  of  a  new 
shape ;  "  but  the  woman  of  the  parable  follows 
the  wiser  course  of  altering  the  quality  of  the 
bread. 

Few  distinctions  are  of  wider  application,  few 
need  more  careful  pondering  by  all  of  us  whether 
in  our  social,  political,  or  religious  capacity. 
Many  of  us  take  a  huge  interest  in  the  institutions 
of  our  country,  and  are  ready  to  lay  our  finger  on 


THE   LEAVEN.  65 

this  and  that  as  needing  reform.  This  parable 
should  therefore  haunt  the  ear,  and  always  sug- 
gest the  question  :  Is  this  or  that  institution 
radically  bad  ?  or,  supposing  good  and  wise  men 
were  working  it,  would  it  not  serve  a  good  pur- 
pose ?  What  is  wanted  in  the  world  is  not  new 
forms,  but  a  new  spirit  in  the  present  forms.  New 
forms,  new  institutions,  new  regulations,  new  oc- 
cupations, new  trades,  new  ways  of  occupying  our 
time,  new  customs  are  really  as  little  to  the  pur- 
pose as  putting  the  old  make  of  bread  into  new 
shapes.  What  our  Lord  by  this  parable  warns 
us  to  aim  at  and  to  look  for  is  rather  the  posses- 
sion which  Christian  feeling  and  views  take  of 
previously  existing  customs,  institutions,  relation- 
ships, occupations,  than  the  new  facts  and  habits 
to  which  Christian  feeling  gives  birth.  It  is  the 
regenerating  rather  than  the  creative  power  of 
Christ's  Spirit  that  He  dwells  upon.  His  Spirit, 
He  says,  does  not  require  a  new  channel  to  be 
dug  for  it ;  its  fuller  stream  may  flood  the  old 
banks,  may  wear  out  corners  here  and  there,  may 
break  out  in  new  directions,  but  in  the  main,  the 
channel  remains  the  same.  The  man  has  the 
same  arteries,  but  now  they  are  filled  with  health- 
giving  blood.  The  lump  is  the  same  lump,  and 
done  up  into  the  same  old  shapes,  but  it  is  all 
leavened  now. 

The  coming  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven  does 
not  then  consist  in  an  entire  alteration  of  human 
5 


(^  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

life,  as  we  now  know  it.  The  kingdom  of  heaveri 
comes  not  with  observation,  but  is  within  you. 
It  does  not  alter  empires  into  republics,  it  does 
not  abolish  work  and  give  us  all  ease,  it  does  not 
find  fault  with  the  universal  frame  of  things,  or 
refuse  to  fit  itself  in  with  the  world  as  it  is ;  but 
it  accepts  things  as  it  finds  them,  and  leavens  all 
it  touches.  As  the  outward  forms  of  the  world's 
business,  its  ofifices  and  dignities,  its  need  of  work 
and  ways  of  working,  would  be  little  altered  if 
all  men  were  suddenly  to  become  absolutely 
truthful  or  absolutely  sober,  so  the  change  which 
Christ  proposed  to  effect  was  of  an  inward,  not  of 
an  outward  kind.  It  was  to  be  first  in  the  in- 
dividual, and  only  through  the  individual  on 
society  at  large.  Our  Lord  in  establishing  a  king- 
dom on  earth,  did  not  intend  to  erect  a  vast 
organization  over-against  the  world,  but  He  meant 
to  introduce  into  the  world  itself  a  leaven  which 
should  rule  and  subdue  all  to  His  own  Spirit.  The 
Church  itself  therefore  may  become  too  visible, 
has  become  in  many  respects  too  visible,  and  has 
thus  unfortunately  succeeded  in  at  once  separat- 
ing itself  from  the  world  as  a  distinct  and  alien 
institution,  and  becoming  entirely  "of  the  world," 
by  imitating  the  institutions,  the  ambitions,  the 
power,  the  show  of  the  world.  It  has  learned  to 
measure  its  success  very  largely  by  the  bulk  it 
occupies  in  the  eyes  of  men,  by  its  well-ordered 
services,  its  creeds  and  laws  and  courts  ;  and  it  has 


THE   LEAVEN.  6/ 

too  much  forgotten  that  its  function  is  of  quite 
another  kind,  namely,  to  be  hidden  among  the 
flour. 

2.  Secondly,  this  parable  pointedly  directs  at- 
tention to  the  precise  method  by  which  the  king- 
dom of  heaven  is  to  grow;  or,  as  we  should 
more  naturally  say,  by  which  the  whole  world  is 
to  be  Christianized.  To  one  who  considers  the 
probable  future  of  any  new  or  young  force  in 
the  world,  to  one  who  stands  beside  the  cradle  of 
a  new  power  and  speculates  on  its  future,  there 
will  occur  several  ways  in  which  it  may  possibly 
prevail  and  attain  universality.  It  may  so  com- 
mend itself  to  the  common  sense  of  men,  or  it 
may  so  appeal  to  their  regard  to  their  own  in- 
terests, as  to  win  universal  acceptance.  Railways, 
banks,  insurance  companies,  do  not  need  statutes 
compelling  men  to  use  them  ;  they  win  their  way 
by  their  own  intrinsic  advantages.  There  have 
been  governments  so  wisely  administered,  that 
men  not  naturally  subject  to  them  have  sought  to 
betaken  under  their  protection  for  the  sake  of  ad- 
vantages accruing.  Some  kingdoms  have  thus 
been  largely  extended  ;  but  more  commonly  they 
have  been  extended  by  the  sword,  by  the  strong 
hand.  Not  by  this  latter  method  would  Christ 
have  His  religion  propagated.  Yet  the  idea  that 
men  can  somehow  be  compelled  to  accept  the 
truth,  seems  never  to  be  quite  eradicated  from 
the  human  mind.     Very  slowly  is  it  recognized 


68      THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

that  to  support  a  religion  by  any  kind  of  force  in- 
stead of  by  reason  alone,  is  to  admit  that  reason 
condemns  it.  The  methods  of  compulsion  change  ; 
the  coarser  forms  of  compulsion,  the  sword 
and  the  stake,  give  place  ;  but  more  disguised 
and  less  startling  forms  of  compulsion  remain, 
equally  opposed  to  the  spirit  of  Christ. 

The  spread  of  Christianity,  then,  is  illustrated 
in  this  parable,  not  by  the  propagation  of  fruit 
trees,  nor  even  by  the  sowing  of  seed,  but  by 
the  leavening  of  a  mass  of  dough.  Religion, 
that  is  to  say,  spreads  not  by  a  fresh  sowing  in 
each  case,  but  by  contagion.  No  doubt  the  e  is 
a  direct  agency  of  God  in  each  case,  but  jod 
works  through  natural  means;  and  the  n:.tural 
means  here  pointed  at  is  personal  influence.  And 
it  is  not  the  agency  of  God  in  the  matter  which 
our  Lord  wishes  here  to  illustrate,  and  therefore 
He  says  nothing  about  it.  He  is  not  careful  to 
guard  Himself  against  misrepresentation  by  com- 
pleting in  every  utterance  a  full  statement  of  the 
whole  truth,  but  presses  one  point  at  a  time  ;  and 
the  point  He  here  presses  is,  that  He  depends 
upon  personal  influence  for  the  spread  of  His 
Spirit.  The  Church  often  trusts  to  massive  and 
wealthy  organizations,  to  methods  which  are 
calculated  to  strike  every  eye  ;  but  according  to 
the  Head  of  the  Church  His  religion  and  spirit 
are  to  be  propagated  by  an  influence  which 
operates  like  an  infectious  disease,  invisible,  with- 


THE  LEAVEN.  69 

out  apparatus  and  pompous  equipment,  succeed- 
ing all  the  better  where  it  is  least  observed.  Our 
Lord  bases  His  expectation  of  the  extension  of  His 
Spirit  throughout  the  world  not  upon  any  grand 
and  powerful  institutions,  not  on  national  establish- 
ments of  religion  or  any  such  means,  but  on  the 
secret,  unnoticed  influence  of  man  upon  man. 

And  indeed  there  exists  no  mightier  power  for 
good  or  evil  than  personal  influence.  Take  even 
those  who  least  intend  to  influence  you  and  seem 
least  capable  of  it.  The  little  child  that  cannot  ,' 
stand  alone  will  work  that  tenderness  in  the  heart  ' 
of  a  rufifian  which  no  acts  of  parliament  or  prison 
discipline  have  availed  to  work.  The  wail  of  the  > 
suffering  infant  will  bring  a  new  spirit  into  the 
man  whom  the  strongest  police  regulations  have 
tended  only  to  harden  and  make  more  defiant 
and  embittered.  By  his  confidence  in  your  word, 
the  child  is  a  more  effectual  monitor  of  truthful- 
ness than  the  keen  or  suspicious  eye  of  the 
grown  man  who  distrusts  you  :  the  child's  reck- 
lessness of  to-morrow,  his  short  sadnesses  and 
soon  recovered  smiles,  his  ignorance  of  the  world 
and  the  world's  misery,  are  the  proper  balance 
of  your  anxiety,  and  insinuate  into  your  heart 
some  measure  of  his  own  freshness  and  hope. 
Or  what  can  reflect  more  light  upon  God's  pa-  ' 
tience  with  ourselves  than  the  unwearying  love 
and  repeated  forgiveness  that  a  child  demands, 
and  the  long  doubting   with  which  we  wait  for 


70  THE    PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

the  fruit  of  years  of  training?  So  that  it  is  hard 
to  say  whether  the  parent  has  more  influence  on 
the  child,  or  the  child  on  the  parent  ?  Or  take 
those  who  have  been  pushed  aside  from  the  busy 
world  by  ill-health  or  misfortune — have  not  their 
unmurmuring  patience,  their  Christian  hope,  their 
need  of  our  compassion,  done  much  to  mold  our 
spirits  to  a  sober  and  chastened  habit  ?  have  they 
not  imparted  to  us  the  spirit  of  Christ,  and  cher- 
ished within  us  a  true  recognition  of  what  is  es- 
sential and  what  accidental,  what  good  and  what 
evil  in  this  world  ? 

What,  then,  does  the  parable  teach  us  regard- 
ing the  operation  of  this  influence  ?  It  teaches 
us,  first,  that  there  must  be  a  mixing ;  that  is 
to  say,  there  must  be  contact  of  the  closest  kind 
between  those  who  are  and  those  who  are  not 
the  subjects  of  Christ.  Manifestly,  no  good  is 
done  by  the  leaven  while  it  lies  by  itself ;  it  might 
as  well  be  chalk  or  anything  else.  It  must  be 
mixed  with  the  flour.  So  must  Christians  be 
kneaded  up  together  with  all  kinds  of  annoying 
and  provoking  and  uncongenial  people,  that  the 
spirit  of  Christ  which  they  bear  may  become  uni- 
versal. Had  our  Lord  not  eaten  with  publicans 
and  sinners  ;  had  He  sensitively  shrunk  from  the 
rough  and  irreverent  handling  He  received  among 
coarse  men  who  called  Him  "  Samaritan,"  *'  devil," 
and  *'  sot ;  "  had  He  secluded  Himself  in  the  ap- 
preciative   household  of  Bethany;    had    He    not 


THE   LEAVEN.  7 1 

made  Himself  the  most  accessible  Person,  little 
of  His  Spirit  would  have  passed  into  other  men. 
Other  things  being  equal,  the  effect  of  Christian 
character  varies  with  the  thoroughness  of  the 
mixing.  It  is  so  with  all  personal  influence. 
The  depth  of  the  love,  the  closeness  of  the  inti- 
macy, the  frequency  and  thoroughness  of  the  in- 
tercourse, is  the  measure  of  the  effect  produced. 
In  a  country  such  as  our  own,  in  which  the 
population  is  dense,  and  in  which  an  unobstructed 
communication  subsists  between  man  and  man, 
things  constantly  tend  to  equahze ;  and  what 
yesterday  was  the  property  of  one  person  is  to- 
day enjoyed  by  thousands.  And  precisely  as  a 
fashion  or  a  contagious  disease  passes  from  man 
to  man,  with  inconceivable  and  sometimes  appal- 
ling rapidity,  so  does  evil  or  good  example  prop- 
agate itself  with  as  certain  and  speedy  an  increase. 
And  this  it  does  all  the  more  effectually  because 
insensibly  ;  because  we  do  not  brace  ourselves  to 
resist  this  subtle  atmospheric  influence,  nor  wash 
our  hands  with  any  disinfectant  provided  against 
these  imperceptible  stains.  There  is  no  quarantine 
for  the  moral  leper,  nor  any  desert  in  the  moral 
world  where  a  man  can  be  evil  for  himself  alone. 

For  this  mixing  is  provided  for  in  various  ways. 
It  is  provided  for  by  nature^  which  sets  us  in 
families  and  mixes  us  up  in  all  the  familiarities 
and  intimacies  of  domestic  life  ;  and  by  society^ 
which    compels    us,    in    the    prosecution    of   our 


'JZ  THE   PARABLES   OF  OUR  LORD. 

ordinary  callings,  to  come  into  contact  with  one 
another  of  a  close  and  influential  kind.  One  part 
of  the  world  is  "  mixed  "  with  other  parts  by  com- 
merce, by  colonization,  by  conquest,  so  that  there 
exists  a  ceaseless  giving  and  taking  of  good  and 
evil.  One  generation  is  mixed  with  others  by 
reading  their  history  and  their  literary  remains, 
and  by  inheriting  their  traditions  and  their  long 
established  usages.  So  that  whether  we  will  or 
no  this  mixing  goes  on,  and  we  can  as  little  pre- 
vent certain  results  arising  from  this  intercourse 
as  we  can  prevent  our  persons  from  giving  off  heat 
when  we  enter  an  atmosphere  colder  than  our- 
selves.    We  find  it  to  be  true  that 

"  The  world's  infectious :  few  bring  back  at  eve 
Immaculate  the  manners  of  the  mom. 
Something  we  thought  is  blotted  :  we  resolv'd, 
Is  shaken  :  we  renounced,  returns  again. 
Each  salutation  may  slide  in  a  sin 
;       Unthought  before,  or  fix  a  former  flaw." 

But  beyond  nature's  provision,  beyond  the 
unavoidable  contact  with  our  fellow-men  to  which 
we  are  all  compelled,  there  are  voluntary  friend- 
ships and  associations  into  which  we  enter,  and 
casual  meetings  which  we  unawares  are  thrown 
into.  Such  casual  and  passing  acquaintanceships 
have  very  frequently  illustrated  the  truth  of  this 
parable,  and  have  been  the  means  of  imparting 
the  Spirit  of  Christ  in  very  unlikely  quarters. 
And  it  would  help  us  to  use  wisely  such  acci- 


THE   LEAVEN.  73 

dental  opportunities  if  we  bore  in  mind  that  if 
there  are  to  be  any  additions  made  to  the  king- 
dom of  Christ,  these  additions  are  chiefly  to  be 
made  from  among  those  careless,  worldly,  antag- 
onistic persons  who  do  not  at  present  respond  to 
any  Christian  sentiments.  But  besides  the  min- 
gling which  nature,  and  what  may  be  called  ac- 
cident, afford,  there  are  connections  we  form  of 
our  own  choice,  and  companies  we  enter  which 
we  might,  if  we  chose,  avoid.  There  is  a  border- 
land of  amusements,  occupations,  duties,  common 
to  the  godly,  and  the  ungodly,  and  for  the  reg- 
ulation of  our  conduct,  in  respect  to  such  inter- 
course, this  parable  suffices.  Can  the  occupation 
be  leavened,  and  can  it  be  leavened  by  us  ?  Can 
it  be  engaged  in  in  a  right  spirit,  and  are  we  sure 
enough  of  our  own  stability  to  engage  in  it  with 
benefit  ?  A  man  of  strong  physique  may  scathe- 
lessly  enter  a  room  out  of  which  a  weaker  consti- 
tution would  inevitably  carry  infection.  And  it 
is  foolish  to  argue  that  because  some  other  person 
is  none  the  worse  of  going  to  this  or  that  com- 
pany, or  engaging  in  this  or  that  pursuit,  therefore 
you  would  not  be  the  worse  of  it.  You  would 
not  so  argue  if  your  entrance  into  an  infected 
house  was  in  question. 

But  there  is  also  a  culpable  refusal  to  mix,  as 
well  as  an  inconsiderate  eagerness  to  do  so.  Most 
of  us  shrink  from  the  responsibility  of  materially 
influencing  the  life   of  another  person.     Ask    9 


74  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

man  for  advice  about  any  important  matter,  and 
you  know  what  devices  he  will  fall  upon  to  avoid 
advising  you.  Many  of  us  are  really  afraid  of 
incurring  the  hazardous  responsibility  of  making 
a  man  a  Christian.  Two  opposite  feelings  dis- 
pose us  to  shrink  from  mingling  with  all  kinds  of 
people.  One  is  a  feeling  of  hopelessness  about 
others.  They  seem  so  remote  from  the  acknowl- 
edgment of  Christ's  rule,  that  we  feel  as  if  they 
could  never  be  leavened.  The  parable  reminds 
us,  that  while  no  doubt  it  is  impossible  to  leaven 
sand,  so  long  as  the  meal  remains  meal  it  may  be 
leavened.  The  other  feeling  is  one  rather  of  de- 
spair about  ourselves  than  about  others.  We  feel 
as  if  our  influence  could  only  do  harm.  We  are 
afraid  to  live  out  our  inward  life  freely  and 
strongly  lest  it  injure  others.  This  feeling,  how- 
ever, should  prompt  us  neither  to  seclude  our- 
selves from  society,  nor  to  behave  in  a  constrained 
and  artificial  manner  in  society,  but  to  renew  our 
own  connection  with  the  leaven  till  we  feel  sure 
our  whole  nature  is  throughout  renewed.  If  any 
one  is  exercising  a  healthy  influence  while  we  are 
languid  and  incapable,  it  is  simply  because  that 
other  person  is  in  connection  with  Christ.  That 
connection  is  open  to  us  as  well. 

The  mixing  being  thus  accomplished,  how  is 
the  process  continued  ?  Besides  mingling  with 
society  and  joining  freely  in  all  the  innocent  ways 
of   the  world,  what   is  a  Christian  to  do  in  order 


The  leaven.  75 

that  his  Christian  feeling  may  be  communicated 
to  others?  The  answer  is,  He  is  to  be  a  Chris- 
tian ;  not  to  be  anxious  to  show  himself  a  Chris- 
tian, but  to  be  careful  to  be  one.  It  has  been 
wisely  said  that  "  the  true  philosophy  or  method 
of  doing  good  is,  first  of  all  and  principally,  to 
be  good — to  have  a  character  that  will  of  itself 
communicate  good."  This  is  the  very  teaching 
of  the  parable,  which  says,  ''  Be  a  Christian,  and 
you  must  make  Christians,  or  help  to  make  them. 
Be  leaven,  and  you  will  leaven."  The  leaven 
does  not  need  to  say,  I  am  leaven  ;  nor  to  say 
that  which  lies  next  it,  Be  thou  leavened.  By 
the  inevitable  communication  of  the  properties 
of  the  leaven  to  that  which  lies  beside  it,  and  by 
this  again  infecting  what  is  beyond,  the  whole, 
gradually  and  unseen,  but  naturally  and  certainly, 
is  leavened. 

This  illustration  of  the  leaven  must,  of  course, 
not  be  too  hard  pressed,  as  if  the  parable  meant 
that  only  by  the  unconscious  influence  of  char- 
acter and  not  at  all  by  the  conscious  and  voluntary 
influence  of  speech  and  action,  the  kingdom  of 
Christ  is  to  be  extended.  Yet  no  one  can  fail  to 
observe  that  the  illustration  of  the  parable  is 
more  appropriate  to  the  unconscious  than  to  the 
intended  influence  which  Christians  exercise  on 
those  around  them.  It  is  rather  the  all-pervad- 
ing and  subtle  extension  of  Christian  principles 
than  their  declared  and  aggressive  advocacy  that 


76  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

is  brought  before  the  mind  by  the  figure  of 
leaven.  It  reminds  us  that  men  are  most  sus- 
ceptible to  the  influence  that  flows  from  char- 
acter. This  influence  sheds  itself  off  in  a  thou- 
sand ways  too  subtle  to  be  resisted,  and  in  forms 
so  fine  as  to  insinuate  themselves  where  words 
would  find  no  entrance.  A  man  is  in  many  cir- 
cumstances more  likely  to  do  good  by  acting  in 
a  Christian  manner,  than  by  drawing  attention  to 
the  faults  of  others  and  exposing  their  iniquity. 
The  less  ostentatious,  the  less  conscious  the  in- 
fluence exercised  upon  us  is,  the  more  likely  are 
wc  to  admit  it.  And  wdien  we  are  compelled  to 
reprove,  or  to  advise,  or  to  entreat,  this  also  must 
be  in  simplicity  and  as  the  natural  expression, 
not  the  formal  and  forced  exhibition  of  Christian 
feeling.  The  words  uttered  by  a  shallow-hearted 
and  self-righteous  Pharisee  may  by  God's  grace 
turn  a  sinner  from  the  error  of  his  ways  ;  the 
lump  of  ice,  itself  chill  and  hard,  may  be  used  as 
a  lens  to  kindle  and  thaw  other  objects ;  but 
notwithstanding  this,  he  who  does  not  speak  with 
his  whole  character  backing  what  he  says,  may 
expect  to  fail.  It  is  man  that  influences  man  ; 
not  the  words  or  individual  actions  of  a  man,  but 
the  complete  character  which  his  whole  life 
silently  reveals. 

If  then  you  sometimes  reproach  yourself  for 
not  exercising  any  perceptible  influence  for  good 
over  some  friend  or  child,  if  it  distA^rbs  you   that 


THE  LEAVEN.  7/ 

\ 
you  have  done  less  than  you  might  have  done  by 

conversation  or  direct  appeal,  it  may  indeed  be 
quite  true  that  you  have  thus  fallen  short  of 
your  duty ;  yet  remember  that  conduct  often 
tells  far  more  than  talk,  and  that  your  conduct 
has  certainly  told  upon  the  secret  thoughts  of 
your  friend,  whereas  were  you  to  speak  merely 
for  the  sake  of  exonerating  your  conscience,  the 
chances  are,  you  would  speak  in  an  awkward, 
artificial,  and  ineffective  manner.  That  conver- 
sation is  often  the  most  religious  which  in  ap- 
pearance is  most  secular ;  which  concerns  bills, 
and  cargoes,  and  investments,  and  contracts,  and 
family  arrangements,  and  literature ;  and  which, 
without  any  allusion  to  God,  the  soul,  and  eter- 
nity, secretly  impregnates  the  whole  of  human 
life  with  the  Spirit  of  Christ.  If  that  only  is  to 
be  reckoned  religious  conversation  in  which  the 
topics  of  religion  are  discussed,  then  religious 
conversation  has  commonly  produced  more  heat 
and  bitterness  and  antagonism  to  Christ's  Spirit 
than  any  other. 

While,  then,  direct  address  forms  one  great 
part  of  the  means  of  leavening  those  around 
you,  it  is  to  be  borne  in  mind,  that  in  the  first 
place  you  must  be  what  you  wish  others  to  be- 
come. If  not,  then  certainly  nothing  that  you 
can  say  is  at  all  likely  to  compensate  for  the  evil 
you  may  do  by  your  character.  It  does  not  need 
that  you  intend  evil  to  any  ;  it  will  be  out  whether 


78  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

you  mean  it  or  no.  If  you  are  yourself  evil,  then 
most  certainly  you  are  making  others  evil.  Can 
you  number  the  times  tliat  you  have  checked  the 
utterance  of  Christian  feeling  in  those  who  knew 
they  would  find  no  response  in  you  ?  Can  you  tell 
how  many  have  been  confirmed  in  a  sinful  course 
by  your  winking  at  their  faults,  and  have  none 
been  led  into  sin  by  your  removing  the  scruples 
of  their  innocence  ?  Are  you  sure  that  your  ex- 
ample has  never  turned  the  balance  the  wrong 
way  at  some  critical  hour  of  your  neighbor's  life? 
Is  there  no  one  who  can  stand  forward  and  charge 
you  with  having  left  him  in  darkness  about  his 
duty,  when  you  might  have  enlightened  him? 
with  having  made  him  easy  in  sin  by  your  pleas- 
ant, affable,  unreproving  demeanor  towards 
him  ?  Are  there  none  who  to  all  eternity  will 
bear  the  punishment  of  sins  in  which  you  were 
aiding  and  abetting ;  none  whom  you  have  direct- 
ly encouraged  to  evil,  who  would,  but  for  you, 
have  been  clear  of  evil  thoughts,  desires,  and 
deeds  of  which  they  now  are  guilty  ;  none  in 
whose  punishment  you  might  see  the  punishment 
of  sins  which  were  as  much  yours  as  theirs,  and 
the  memory  of  which  might  seem  sufficient,  if  that 
were  possible,  to  poison  the  very  joys  of  heaven? 
Do  not  turn  the  warning  of  this  parable  aside 
by  the  thought.  Am  I  my  brother's  keeper?  Most 
assuredly  you  are  responsible  for  your  own  char- 
acter, and  for  all  its  effects.    If  you  are  not  doing 


TPIE   LEAVEN.  79 

good  to  others,  it  is  because  there  is  something 
wrong  in  yourself.  If  you  are  not  leavening  others, 
it  is  because  you  are  yourself  unleavened  :  for 
there  is  no  such  thing  as  leaven  that  does  not 
impart  its  qualities  to  that  which  is  about  it.  Can 
you  confine  the  perfume  to  the  flower,  or  restrict 
the  light  of  the  sun  to  its  own  globe  ?  Just  as 
little  can  you  restrain  all  Christian  qualities 
within  your  own  person  :  something  material, 
something  essential  to  Christian  character  is  lack- 
ing if  it  be  not  influencing  those  about  it. 

It  is  a  glorious  consummation  that  this  parable 
speaks  of.  It  tells  of  a  mixing  that  is  to  go  on 
till  "  the  whole "  is  leavened.  The  Spirit  of 
Christ  is  to  pervade  all  things.  That  Spirit  is  to 
take  possession  of  all  national  characteristics  and 
all  individual  gifts.  Every  variety  of  quality,  of 
human  faculty,  temperament,  and  endowment,  is 
to  be  Christianized,  that  all  may  serve  Christ.  In 
His  kingdom  is  to  be  gathered  all  that  has  ever 
served  or  gladdened  humanity :  the  freshness  of 
childhood  and  its  simplicity,  the  sagacity,  gravity, 
and  self-command  of  age,  the  enterprise  and  ca- 
pacity of  manhood,  the  qualities  that  suffering 
matures,  and  those  that  are  nurtured  by  pros- 
perity;  all  occupations  that  have  invited  and 
stimulated  and  rewarded  the  energies  of  men,  all 
modes  of  human  life,  and  all  affections  that  con^ 
science  approves,  all  that  is  the  true  work,  joy,  and 
glory,  of  our  nature  is  to  be  pervaded  with  the 


80  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

sanctifying,  purifying,  elevating  leaven  of  Christ's 
Spirit.  And  this  is  to  be  achieved  not  otherwise 
than  by  personal  influence.  Is  it  possible  that 
you  should  have  no  desire  to  help  in  this  ?  that 
you  should  be  in  the  world  of  men  and  not  care  to 
see  it  accomplishing  this  destiny  ?  that  you  should 
know  the  earnestness  of  Christ  in  this  behalf,  and 
never  lift  a  finger  or  open  your  lips  to  aid  Him  ? 
Surely  it  will  pain  you  to  come  to  the  end  of  life 
and  have  it  to  reflect  that  not  one  soul  has  been 
effectually  helped  by  you.  Would  you  not  save 
many  if  by  a  wish  you  could  lift  them  to  the  gate 
of  heaven  ?  Is  it,  then,  because  of  the  little  la- 
bor and  sacrifice  that  are  needed  for  this  purpose 
that  you  hold  back  from  helping  ?  Is  there 
nothing  you  can  do,  is  there  nothing  you  ought 
to  do  in  the  way  of  leavening  some  little  bit  of 
the  great  mass?  Come  back  yourselves  to  the 
leaven,  cultivate  diligently  that  fellowship  with 
Christ  Himself,  which  is  alone  sufficient  to  equip 
you  for  this  great  calling.  Make  sure  of  the 
reality  of  your  own  acceptance  of  His  Spirit,  and 
then  whatever  you  do,  utter,  touch,  will  all  be 
leavened. 


THE  HID  TREASURE  AND  THE 
PEARL  OF  PRICE. 

Matt.  xiii.  44-46. 

These  two  parables  have  one  and  the  same 
object.  They  are  meant  to  exhibit  the  incom- 
parable value  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  They 
exhibit  this  value  not  by  attempting  to  describe 
the  kingdom  or  its  various  advantages,  but  by 
depicting  the  eagerness  with  which  he  who  finds 
it  and  recognizes  its  value,  parts  with  all  to  make 
it  his  own.  This  eagerness  is  not  dependent  on 
the  previous  expectations  or  views  or  condition 
of  the  finder  of  the  kingdom,  but  is  alike  dis- 
played whether  the  finder  is  lifted  by  his  dis- 
covery out  of  acknowledged  poverty,  or  has  his 
hands  already  filled  with  goodly  pearls;  whether 
he  has  no  outlook  and  hope  at  all,  or  is  eagerly 
seeking  for  perfect  happiness.  The  one  parable 
illustrates  the  eagerness  of  a  poor  man  who  lights 
upon  the  treasure  apparently  by  accident  ;  the 
other  illustrates  the  eagerness  of  a  rich  man 
whose  finding  of  the  pearl  of  price  is  the  result 
of  carefully  studied  and  long  sustained  search. 

This  difference  in  the  two  parables  sets  clearly 
before  the  mind  a  distinction  which  is  frequently 
6  81 


82       THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

apparent  among  those  who  become  Christians. 
Men  naturally  view  life  very  differently,  and  take 
up  from  the  first  very  various  attitudes  towards 
the  world  into  which  we  all  have  come.  One 
person  is  from  the  first  quite  at  home  in  it,  an- 
other slinks  through  it  as  if  there  were  nothing 
friendly  or  congenial  to  him  here.  One  man 
i  seems  to  regard  it  as  a  banqueting  house  which 
is  to  be  made  the  most  of  ere  the  sun  rise  and 
dispel  his  illusion,  while  another  uses  it  as  a 
battle-field  where  conquests  are  to  be  made,  and 
where  all  is  to  be  done  in  grim  earnest  and  stren- 
uously with  no  thought  of  pleasure.  And  as 
these  parables  indicate,  there  are  men  born  with 
placid  and  contented  natures,  others  with  eager, 
soaring,  insatiable  spirits ;  some,  in  a  word,  are 
born  merchants,  others  day-laborers.  Some, 
that  is,  are  born  with  a  noble  instinct  which  never 
forsakes  them,  but  prompts  them  to  believe  that 
there  is  infinite  joy  and  satisfaction  to  be  found, 
and  that  it  shall  be  theirs  :  they  cannot  rest  with 
small  things,  but  are  driven  always  forward  to 
more  and  higher.  Others,  again,  never  look 
beyond  their  present  attainment,  cannot  under- 
stand the  restless  ambition  that  weeps  for  more 
worlds,  have  no  speculation  in  them,  no  broad 
plan  of  life,  nor  much  idea  that  any  purpose  is  to 
be  served  by  it.  They  have  the  peaceful,  happy 
industry  which  makes  the  day's  labor  easy,  but 
not  the  enterprise  which  can   plan  a  life's  work 


THE   HID    TREASURE.  83 

and  make  every  available  material  on  earth  sub- 
serve its  plan. 

This  difference,  when  exhibited  in  connection 
with  religion,  becomes  very  marked.  Looking 
upon  some  men,  you  would  say  you  don't  know 
how  ever  they  are  to  be  brought  to  Christ,  they 
are  so  thoroughly  at  home  and  at  rest  in  their 
daily  business,  and  this  seems  to  afford  them  so 
much  interest,  satisfaction,  and  reward  that  you 
cannot  fancy  them  so  much  as  once  reflecting 
whether  something  more  is  not  needed.  They 
seem  so  peculiarly  fitted  for  this  world,  you  can 
fancy  them  going  on  in  the  same  sphere  forever. 
Of  others,  again,  you  are  perpetually  wondering 
how  they  have  not  long  ago  found  what  they 
have  been  so  long  seeking ;  you  know  that,  em- 
ploy themselves  as  they  will  in  this  world,  their 
inward  thought  is  writing  vanity  on  all  this  world 
gives  them — they  crave  a  spiritual  treasure. 

In  the  first  of  these  two  parables,  then,  we  see 
how  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  sometimes  found 
by  those  who  are  not  seeking  it.  The  point  of 
this  part  of  the  parable  and  its  distinction  from 
the  other  seems  to  lie  in  this,  that  while  the  man 
was  giving  a  deeper  furrow  to  his  field,  intent 
only  on  his  team,  his  plowshare  suddenly 
grated  on  the  slab  that  concealed  or  rung  upon 
the  chest  that  contained  the  treasure,  or  turned 
up  a  glittering  coin  that  had  fallen  out  in  the 
hasty  burial  of  the  store.     Or  he  may  have  been 


84  THE  PARABLES   OF   OUR  LORD. 

sauntering  through  a  neighbor's  field,  when  his 
eye  is  suddenly  attracted  by  some  sign  which 
makes  his  heart  leap  to  his  mouth  and  fixes  him 
for  the  moment  to  the  spot,  because  he  knows 
that  treasure  must  be  there.  He  went  out  in  the 
morning  thinking  of  nothing  less  than  that  before 
nightfall  his  fortune  would  be  made — suddenly, 
without  effort  or  expectation  of  his,  he  sees  un- 
told wealth  within  his  grasp.  He  knows  nothing 
of  the  history  of  the  treasure — does  not  know  on 
whose  feet  these  bright  anklets  gleamed  in  the 
dance,  knows  none  of  the  touching  memories  that 
are  associated  with  that  signet  ring,  nothing  of 
the  long  hard  strife  by  which  these  gold-pieces 
were  acquired,  nor  of  the  disaster  which  tore  them 
from  the  reluctant  hand  of  the  possessor.  It  is 
not  his  blood  that  has  dyed  the  gold  on  that 
jewel- hilted  scimitar.  He  can  imagine  the  care- 
worn man  when  trouble  and  war  overran  the 
land,  stealing  out  in  the  darkness  and  making  his 
treasure  secure,  and  marking  it  by  signs  which, 
alas !  he  was  never  again  to  note  ;  but  he  kiiows 
nothing  of  him,  knew  nothing  of  him.  Ages 
before,  this  treasure  had  been  hid  ;  for  him  it  had 
been  prepared  without  any  intention  or  labor  of 
his,  and  now  suddenly  he  lights  upon  it ;  out  of 
poverty  he  to  his  own  astonishment  steps  into 
wealth,  and  his  whole  life  is  changed  for  him 
without  hope  or  effort  of  his  own. 

So,  says  our  Lord,  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 


THE   HID   TREASURE.  85 

Suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  other  thoughts  a  man 
is  brought  face  to  face  with  Christ,  and  while 
earning  his  daily  bread  and  seeking  for  no  more 
than  success  in  life  can  give  him,  unexpectedly 
finds  that  eternal  things  are  his.  Christ  is  found 
of  them  that  sought  Him  not.  Is  it  not  often 
so  ?  The  man  has  begun  life  not  thinking  that 
any  very  great  thing  can  be  made  of  it,  as  little 
as  the  plowman  expects  to  be  lord  of  the 
manor,  and  to  own  the  horses,  lands,  and  com- 
forts of  the  proprietor.  He  begins  with  the  idea 
that  if  he  is  careful,  diligent,  and  favored  by 
circumstances,  life  may  be  pleasant.  He  has  a 
prospect  of  a  decent,  comfortable  livelihood,  or, 
at  the  best,  of  a  good-going  business,  with  margin 
of  leisure  for  friendly  intercourse,  the  reading  of 
pleasant  literature,  and  so  on.  He  is  confident 
he  will  marry  happily,  and  live  and  see  good  days. 
In  other  words,  he  has  extremely  modest  expec^ 
tations  of  what  life  can  do  for  him  :  has  no  soarinof 
anticipations  of  **  the  ampler  aether,  the  deviner 
air,"  does  not  recognize  his  own  capacity  nor 
the  size  he  may  grow  to,  but,  like  the  child  for 
whom  the  world  can  do  no  more  if  he  is  promised 
some  favorite  toy,  fancies  that  no  better  thing 
can  come  to  him  than  houses,  lands,  wife  and 
children,  friendships  and  prosperity.  Or  if  he 
once  had  visitings  of  a  higher,  ampler  hope,  and 
seemed  to  see  that  round  and  beyond  the  suc- 
cesses of  business  and  the  common  pleasures  of 


86      THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

life  there  lay  a  limitless  ocean  of  feeling  and  of 
thought, — worlds  upon  worlds,  like  the  starry 
unfathomable  firmament,  in  which  the  soul 
might  find  expanse  and  joy  forever, — these 
visions  have  been  wiped  out  by  the  coarse 
hand  of  some  early  sin,  or  have  been  worn  from 
the  surface  of  the  mind  by  the  hard  traffic  of  the 
world  ;  and  now  what  the  shriveled  creature 
seeks  is  possibly  but  the  accomplishment  of  a 
daily  routine,  possibly  the  attainment  of  some 
poor  ambition,  or  the  wreaking  of  a  low  revenge, 
or  triumph  over  a  rival  who  has  defeated  him,  or 
possibly  not  even  anything  so  definite  as  that. 
He  Jiad  a  vision  of  a  life  which  might  fulfil  high 
aims,  which  might  be  ennobled  and  glorified 
throughout  by  true  and  pervading  fellowship 
with  God,  he  once  was  confident  that  what  the 
human  imagination  could  conceive  of  good,  that, 
and  far  more  than  that,  was  possible  to  the 
human  nature,  and  to  every  man  who  had  it  ; 
but  that  bright  vision  has  passed  as  the  morning, 
all  aglow  with  light  and  freshness,  is  quenched  in 
rain  and  cloud  and  gloomy  wretchedness. 

This,  then,  is  in  point  of  fact  the  condition  of 
many  a  man  as  he  passes  through  life — he  has 
no  conception  of  the  blessedness  that  awaits  him, 
he  has  as  little  hope  of  any  supreme  and  com- 
plete felicity  as  the  man  of  the  parable  had  any 
expectation  of  lighting  upon  a  hid  treasure.  We 
only  think  of  what  we  can  make  of  life,  not  of  the 


THE   HID   TREASURE.  87 

wealth  God  has  laid  in  our  path.  But  suddenly 
our  steps  are  arrested  ;  circumstances  that  seem 
purely  accidental  break  down  the  partition  that 
has  hemmed  us  in  to  time,  and  we  see  that 
eternity  is  ours.  We  thought  we  had  a  house, 
100  acres  of  land,  ;^iooo  well  invested,  and  we 
find  we  have  God.  We  were  comforting  our- 
selves with  the  prospect  of  increased  salary,  of 
ampler  comforts  and  advantages,  and  a  voice 
comes  ringing  through  our  soul,  "  all  things  are 
yours,  for  ye  are  Christ's  and  Christ  is  God's." 
How  it  is  that  the  eyes  are  now  opened  to  this 
treasure,  we  can  as  little  tell  as  the  plowman 
who  has  driven  his  slow  steers  over  that  same 
field  since  first  he  could  guide  the  plow  but 
has  never  till  this  day  seen  the  treasure.  A  few 
words  casually  dropped,  a  sentence  read  in  an 
idle  moment,  some  break  in  our  prosperous 
course,  some  pause  which  allows  the  mind  to 
wander  in  unaccustomed  directions, — one  cannot 
say  what  is  insufficient  to  bring  the  wandering 
and  empty  soul  to  a  settled  possession  of  the 
kingdom  of  heaven,  for  the  treasure  seems  to  be 
his  before  he  looks  for  it,  before  he  feels  his  need 
of  it,  before  has  taken  thought  or  steps  about  it. 
This  morning  he  was  content  with  what  a  man 
can  have  outside  of  God's  kingdom  :  this  evening 
everything  outside  that  kingdom  has  lost  its 
value  and  is  as  nothing.  The  man  who  is  lost  in 
mist  on  a  wild  hill  thinks  himself  exceptionally 


88      THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

well  off  if  he  can  find  a  sheepfold  to  give  him 
shelter,  and  is  thankful  if  he  can  see  two  steps 
before  him  and  can  avoid  the  precipice ;  but  sud- 
denly the  sun  shines  out,  the  mist  lifts,  and  he 
sees  before  him  a  boundless  prospect,  bright 
placid  dwellings  of  men,  and  his  path  leading 
down  to  the  shining  valley  with  all  its  stir  of  life, 
and  now  what  comforted  and  sufificed  him  before 
is  all  forgotten. 

You  will  not  fail  in  passing  to  draw  the  infer- 
ence from  this  presentation  of  the  manner  of 
finding  the  kingdom,  that  conversions  which 
have  taken  place  quite  unexpectedly  and  with 
great  ease  on  the  part  of  the  converted  person, 
need  not  therefore  be  insuf^cient  and  hollow. 
We  are  very  apt  to  think  that  because  the  king- 
dom of  heaven  is  so  great  a  treasure  a  man  should 
spend  much  labor  in  attaining  it — that  as  the 
acceptance  of  Christ  is  the  most  important  attain- 
ment a  man  can  make,  there  ought  to  be  some 
proportionate  effort  and  expectancy  on  his  part 
— that  so  great  a  treasure  is  not  to  be  made  over 
to  one  who  is  not  caring  for  it  or  thinking  of  it. 
But  this  parable  shows  us  that  there  may  be  a 
finding  without  any  previous  seeking,  and  that 
the  essential  thing  is,  not  whether  a  man  has 
been  seeking,  and  how  long,  and  how  earnestly 
— no,  but  whether  a  man  has  found.  The  man 
in  the  parable  would  not  have  found  more  in 
that  spot  had  he  been  seeking  more  and  seeking 


THE  HID   TREASURE.  89 

it  elsewhere  all  his  days ;  the  buried  money  was 
not  accumulating  interest  while  he  was  spending 
years  in  the  search.  The  very  same  treasure 
may  be  found  by  the  man  who  has  grown  gray 
in  the  quest  of  treasure,  and  by  the  child  who 
plays  in  the  field  ;  by  the  alchemist  who  has 
spent  his  life  in  examining  the  boasted  tests  for 
finding  treasure,  and  by  the  laboring  man  who 
has  never  heard  of  such  tests  and  does  not  dream 
of  finding  sudden  wealth.  The  question  is,  Does 
a  man  know  the  value  of  what  has  turned  up 
before  him,  and  is  he  so  in  earnest  as  to  sell  all 
for  it  ?  Let  us  not  hesitate  to  believe  that  in 
one  hour  some  heedless  person  has  found  what 
we  have  all  our  life  been  seeking,  if  only  he 
shows  his  appreciation  of  the  treasure  by  parting 
with  all  for  it. 

The  second  parable  introduces  us  to  the  other, 
the  higher  type  of  man,  the  merchantman — the 
man  who  has  7iot  moderate  expectations,  who  re- 
fuses ever  to  be  satisfied  until  he  has  all,  who  is 
always  meditating  new  ventures,  and  to  whom 
his  present  possessions  are  only  of  value  as  the 
means  of  acquiring  what  is  yet  beyond  his  reach. 
He  sets  out  with  the  inborn  conviction  or  in- 
stinct that  there  is  something  worth  seeking, 
worth  the  labor  and  the  search  of  a  life,  some- 
thing which  will  abundantly  repay  us,  and  to 
which  we  can  wholly,  freely,  and  eternally  give 
ourselves  up,  and  on  which  we  shall  delight  to 


90      THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

spend  our  whole  strength,  capabihties,  and  life. 
He  refuses  to  be  satisfied  with  the  moderate,  often 
interrupted  and  often  quenched  joys  of  this  life. 
He  considers  physical  health,  the  respect  of  his 
fellow-men,  a  good  education,  good  social  posi- 
tion, and  so  forth,  as  all  goodly  pearls,  but  he  is 
not  going  to  sit  down  satisfied  with  these  things 
jif  there  is  anything  better  to  be  had.  He  refuses 
to  have  anything  short  of  the  best.  He  goes  on 
from  one  acquirement  to  another.  Money  is 
good,  he  at  first  thinks,  but  knowledge  is  better. 
He  parts  with  the  one  to  get  the  other.  Friend- 
ship is  good,  but  love  is  better,  and  he  cannot 
satisfy  himself  with  the  one,  but  must  also  have 
the  other.  The  respect  of  his  fellows  is  good,  but 
self-respect  and  a  pure  conscience  are  better. 
Human  love  is  a  goodly  pearl,  but  this  only 
quickens  him  to  crave  insatiably  for  the  love  of 
God.  He  must  always  have  what  is  beyond  and 
best.  He  refuses  to  believe  that  God  has  created 
us  to  be  partially  satisfied,  happy  at  intervals, 
content  with  effort,  believing  ourselves  blessed, 
disguising  the  reality  of  our  condition  by  the  aid 
of  fancy,  or  fleeing  from  it  on  the  wings  of  hope, 
but  to  be  partakers  of  His  own  blessedness,  and 
to  enjoy  eternally  the  sufficiency  of  Him  in  whom 
are  all  things. 

This  spirit  of  expectation  is  encouraged  by 
the  parable.  It  stems  to  say  to  us,  Covet  ear- 
nestlythe  best  gifts.     Never  make  up  your  mind 


THE   HID    TREASURE.  9I 

merely  to  endure  or  merely  to  be  resigned.  Test 
what  you  have,  and  if  it  do  not  satisfy  you 
wholly,  seek  for  something  better.  It  is  not  for 
you  who  have  a  God,  a  God  of  infinite  resource 
and  of  infinite  love,  to  accustom  yourselves  to 
merely  negative  blessings  and  doubtful,  limited 
conditions.  You  are  to  start  with  the  belief  that 
you  are  not  made  for  final  disappointment,  nor  to 
rest  content  with  something  less  than  you  once 
hoped  for  or  can  now  conceive,  but  that  there  is 
somewhere,  and  attainable  by  you,  the  most  un- 
challengeable felicity — that  there  does  exist  a  per- 
fect condition,  a  pearl  of  great  price,  and  that 
there  is  but  a  question  of  the  way  to  it,  a  question 
of  search.  You  are  to  start  with  this  belief,  and 
you  are  to  hold  to  it  to  the  end.  Under  no  com- 
pulsion or  enticement,  in  the  face  of  no  disap- 
pointment, give  up  this  persuasion  that  goodly 
pearls  are  to  be  had,  and  to  be  had  by  you,  that 
into  your  life  and  soul  the  full  sense  of  ample  pos- 
session is  one  day  to  enter.  When  you  come  up 
from  a  breathless  eager  search  like  the  pearl-diver, 
spent  and  bleeding,  and  with  your  hands  filled  only 
with  mud  or  worthless  shells  ;  or  when,  like  the 
merchant,  you  have  ventured  your  all,  and  are  re- 
duced to  beggary  and  thrown  back  to  the  very  be- 
ginning, the  great  hope  of  your  life  being  taken 
from  you  ;  when  all  your  days  seem  to  have  been 
v/asted  in  fruitless  search ;  when  every  feeling 
within  you  rises  up  in   mutiny  against  you,  and 


92  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

like  an  ignorant  crew  scorns  your  adventure,  and 
would  put  about  and  run  with  the  wind  back  from 
the  new  world  you  seek,  put  them  down  ;  you  have 
certainty  on  your  side,  simple,  sheer  certainty, 
for  "  he  that  seeketh,  fijidetUr 

The  important  point  in  these  parables  is  that 
which  is  common  to  both.  The  teaching  which 
our  Lord  desires  to  convey  by  their  means  regards 
the  incomparable  value  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven, 
and  the  readiness  with  which  one  who  perceives 
its  value  will  give  up  all  for  it.  He  wishes  us  to 
consider  the  alacrity,  gladness,  and  assurance  with 
which  one  who  apprehends  the  value  of  the 
kingdom  will  and  should  put  aside  everything 
which  prevents  him  from  making  it  his  own.  It 
is  the  usual,  universal,  mercantile  feeling.  The 
merchant  does  not  part  with  his  other  possessions 
reluctantly  when  he  wishes  to  obtain  some  better 
possession  ;  he  longs  to  get  rid  of  them  ;  he  goes 
into  the  investment  about  which  he  has  satisfied 
himself  with  thorough  good  will;  he  clears  out  as 
fast  as  he  can  from  every  other  investment,  and 
endeavors  to  realize  wherever  he  can  that  he  may 
have  his  means  free  for  this  better  and  more  pro- 
ductive venture.  People  who  do  not  know  its 
value  may  think  the  man  mad  selling  out  at  low 
prices,  at  unsuitable  times,  at  a  loss  ;  but  he  knows 
what  he  is  doing.  I  don't  care  what  I  lose,  he 
says  to  himself,  for  if  I  can  only  get  that  field  I 
shall  have  infinite  compensation   for  my  losses. 


THE   HID   TREASURE.  93 

As  soon  as  he  has  made  up  his  mind  that  there  is 
a  treasure  in  the  field,  he  is  filled  with  tremulous, 
sleepless  eagerness,  till  he  makes  it  his  own.  Day 
and  night  his  heart  is  there  and  his  thoughts. 
His  dreams  are  full  of  visions  of  possession,  or  of 
heart-breaking  failure.  His  waking  hours  are 
nervously  agitated  by  fears  and  schemings.  He 
always  finds  that  his  road  home  lies  past  the 
longed-for  property.  He  is  jealous  of  the  very 
birds  that  hover  over  it.  The  world  is  full  of 
stories,  and  every  day  adds  to  the  stock  of  stories 
that  display  the  ingenuity,  craft,  perseverance, 
consuming  zeal,  spent  in  winning  the  bit  of  ground 
that  is  coveted.  No  labor  is  grudged,  no  sac- 
rifice is  shrunk  from,  no  present  poverty  is  a  trial 
if  it  brings  the  coveted  property  nearer. 

But  is  this  a  similitude  for  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  ?  Is  it  not  rather  a  picture  of  what  ought 
to  be  than  of  what  is  ?  What  we  commonly  find 
is  that  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  not  so  esteemed. 
We  see  men  hesitating  to  part  with  anything  for 
it,  looking  at  it  as  a  sad  alternative,  as  a  resort  to 
which  they  must  perhaps  betake  themselves  when 
too  old  to  enjoy  life  any  longer,  as  what  they  may 
have  to  come  to  when  all  the  real  joy  and  intensity 
of  life  are  gone,  but  not  as  that  on  which  life  itself 
can  best  be  spent.  Entrance  into  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  is  looked  upon  much  as  entrance  into  the 
fortified  town  is  viewed  by  the  rural  population. 
It  may  be  necessary  in  time  of  danger,  but  they 


94      THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

will  think  with  longing  of  the  fields  and  home- 
steads they  must  abandon  ;  it  is  by  constraint, 
not  from  love,  that  they  make  the  change.  In 
short,  it  is  plain  that  men  generally  do  not  reckon 
the  kingdom  of  heaven  to  be  of  such  value  that 
they  sacrifice  everything  else  for  its  sake.  And 
it  is  of  supreme  importance  that  we  should  clearly 
see  the  grounds  on  which  we  base  our  confidence 
that  we  ourselves  are  exceptions  to  the  general 
rule,  if  we  have  such  a  confidence.  Have  we 
really  shown  any  of  that  mercantile  eagerness 
which  the  parable  speaks  of  ?  Have  we  in  any 
way  shown  that  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  first  in 
our  thoughts?  What  meaning  has  this  ''selling 
of  all  '*  in  our  life  ? 

For  it  is  to  be  observed  that  there  always  is 
this  selling  wherever  the  kingdom  is  won.  We 
have  it  not  at  all  unless  we  have  given  all  for 
it.  It  is  like  a  choice  between  living  in  the 
town  or  in  the  country.  We  know  we  cannot  do 
both,  and  in  order  to  secure  the  advantages  of 
the  one  kind  of  life  we  must  give  up  those  of  the 
other.  So,  living  for  ourselves  prevents  us  from 
living  for  God,  and  we  cannot  do  the  one  without 
wholly  giving  up  the  other.  If  you  value  the 
kingdom  of  God  more  than  all  else,  you  will 
eagerly  give  up  everything  that  prevents  your 
winning  it ;  but  no  mere  pretended  esteem  for  it 
will  prompt  you  to  make  the  needful  sacrifices,  or 
will  actually  give  you  possession.     If  you  do  not 


THE   HID   TREASURE.  95 

really  desire  the  kingdom  more  than  aught  else, 
then  you  have  not  found  it.  A  feigned  desire 
does  not  move  us  to  obtain  anything.  It  is  what 
you  really  love  that  you  spend  thought  and  effort 
and  money  upon,  not  what  you  know  you  ought 
tolove,  and  are  trying  to  persuadeyourself  tolove. 
In  conclusion,  this  parable  lets  fall  these  two 
words  of  warning — i.  Make  your  calculations,  and 
act  accordingly.  If  you  think  the  world  will  pay 
you  better  than  Christ,  then  serve  it ;  give  yourself 
heartily  and  without  compunction  to  it.  Do  not 
be  so  weak  as  to  allow  thoughts  of  things  eternal 
and  a  spiritual  world  you  have  forsaken  to  haunt 
you  and  spoil  your  enjoyment.  Make  your  choice 
and  act  upon  it.  If  there  is  no  better  pearl,  no 
richer  treasure  than  what  you  can  win  by  devotion 
to  business  and  living  for  yourself,  then  by  all 
means  choose  that,  and  make  the  most  of  it.  But 
if  you  think  that  Christ  was  right,  if  you  foresee 
that  what  is  outside  His  kingdom  must  perish,  and 
that  He  has  gathered  within  it  all  that  is  worthy, 
all  that  is  enduring,  all  that  is  as  it  ought  to  be, 
if  you  know  that  you  are  not  and  can  never  be 
blessed  outside  that  kingdom,  then  let  the  reason- 
ableness and  remonstrance  of  this  parable  move 
you  to  show  some  eagerness  in  winning  that  great 
treasure.  Make  your  choice  and  act  upon  it. 
Let  your  mind  dwell  on  the  objects  Christ  has 
in  view  till  you  become  enamored  of  them,  and 
till   they  alone  draw    you    and    command    your 


96  THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

effort.  Strive  to  shake  off  the  pitiful  avarice,  the 
timorous  anxieties,  the  cowardly  self-seeking,  the 
low,  earthly,  stupid  aims  of  the  man  who  serves 
the  world,  and  let  the  Spirit  of  Christ  draw  you 
into  fellowship  with  His  aims,  and  give  you  a 
place  in  His  kingdom. 

2.  If  you  have  this  treasure,  do  not  murmur  at 
the  price  you  have  paid  for  it.  If  you  have  to 
forego  earthly  advancement,  if  you  are  inwardly 
constrained  to  part  with  money  which  might  have 
brought  many  comforts,  if  you  have  been  drawn 
to  do  things  which  are  miscontrued  and  which 
make  you  feel  awkward  with  your  friends,  if  self 
asserts  itself  again  and  again,  and  claims  pleasure 
and  gain  and  gratification  of  various  kinds,  do  not 
murmur  at  what  the  kingdom  is  costing  you,  but 
rather  count  over  your  treasure,  and  see  how  much 
more  you  have  than  you  have  lost.  Having  what 
worlds  cannot  buy,  you  will  surely  not  vex  your- 
self by  longing  for  this  or  that  which  the  poorest- 
spirited  slave  of  this  world  can  easily  obtain.  Sup- 
pose you  had  the  offer  to  barter  your  interest  in 
the  kingdom  for  any  or  all  of  the  possessions,  ad- 
vantages, and  pleasures  you  are  deprived  of,  you 
would  not  do  it;  if,  then,  in  your  own  judgment, 
and  by  your  own  deliberate  choice  you  have  the 
better  portion,  it  is  scarcely  fair  to  bewail  your- 
self as  an  ill-used  person.  Anything  you  have 
been  required  to  give  up  for  the  kingdom's  sake 
was  either  of  no  real  value — it  was  the  coin  which, 


THE    HID    TREASURE.  97 

SO  long  as  you  kept  it,  could  neither  wari>\nor 
clothe  you,  and  whose   only  use  was  to   buy  val- 
uables ;  or  if  of  real  value,  the  relinquishment  of 
it  has  given  you  what  is  of  infinite  value. 
7 


THE  NET. 

Matt.  xii.  47-50. 

In  the  foregoing  parables  of  the  kingdom  Jesus 
has  pointed  out  the  causes  of  its  success  and 
failure,  its  mixed  appearance  in  this  world,  its  sur- 
prising  growth  from  small  beginnings,  and  the 
method  of  its  extension.  He  now  points  to  the 
result  of  all,  when  the  great  net  shall  be  drawn  to 
shore,  all  the  influences  and  efforts  of  this  life 
ended  and  brought  to  a  pause ;  when  there  shall 
be  "  no  more  sea,"  no  fluctuation,  no  ebb  and  flow, 
no  tide  of  good  resolve  and  progress  sucked  back 
from  all  it  had  reached,  and  leaving  a  foul  and 
slimy  beach  ;  especially  no  mingling  of  bad  and 
good  in  an  obscure  and  confusing  element ;  but 
decision  and  separation,  a  deliberate  sitting  down 
to  see  what  has  been  made  of  this  world  by  us 
all,  and  a  summing  up  on  that  eternal  shore  of  all 
gains  and  results,  and  every  man's  aim  made 
manifest  by  his  end. 

There    is    obviously  considerable    resemblance 

between  this  parable  of  the  net  and  the  parable  of 

the  tares.     But  the  one  is  not  a  mere  repetition  of 

the  other  under  a  different  figure.     Every  parable 

is  intended  to  illustrate   one  truth.     Light  may 
98 


THE   NET. 


99 


incidentally  be  shed  on  other  points,  as  you  can- 
not turn  your  eye  or  the  light  you  carry  on  the 
object  you  wish  to  examine  without  seeing  and 
shedding  light  on  other  things  as  well.  Now  the 
one  truth  which  is  especially  enforced  in  the  par- 
able of  the  tares  is  that  it  is  dangerous  in  the  ex- 
treme to  attempt  in  this  present  time  to  separate 
the  evil  from  the  good  in  the  Church  :  whereas 
the  one  truth  to  which  the  parable  of  the  net  gives 
prominence  is  that  this  separation  will  be  effected 
by  and  by  in  its  own  suitable  time.  No  doubt 
this  future  separation  appears  in  the  parable  of 
the  tares  also,  but  in  that  parable  it  is  introduced 
for  the  sake  of  lending  emphasis  to  the  warning 
against  attempting  a  separation  now  ;  in  this  par- 
able of  the  net  it  is  introduced  with  no  such  pur- 
pose. A  weeding  process  might  very  naturally 
suggest  itself,  indeed  always  does  suggest  itself, 
to  one  looking  over  a  hedge  at  a  dirty  field  ;  but 
no  one  watching  the  drawing  of  a  net  would  dream 
of  plunging  in  to  throw  out  worthless  fish.  Let 
the  net  be  drawn  ;  then,  as  a  matter  of  course,  the 
separation  will  be  made.  The  value  of  the  take, 
which  cannot  yet  be  estimated,  will  be  ascertained 
by  and  by.  The  whole  results  of  the  work  of 
Christ  in  the  world  will  then  but  not  sooner  be 
known. 

Another  point  of  distinction  between  the  two 
parables  is  this,  that  while  in  the  one  parable  the 
springing  of  tares  among  the  good  corn  is  ascribed 


lOO  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

to  the  design  of  an  enemy,  in  the  other  the  mix- 
ture of  good  and  bad  in  the  net  is  rather  exhibited 
as  necessarily  resulting  from  the  nature  of  the 
case.  In  hunting,  a  man  can  make  his  choice  and 
pick  out  the  finest  of  the  herd,  letting  the  rest 
go  ;  but  in  fishing  with  a  net  no  such  selection  is 
possible  ;  all  must  be  drawn  to  shore  that  happens 
to  have  been  embraced  within  the  sweep  of  the 
net.  So  in  sending  out  His  servants  to  invite 
men  to  the  kingdom,  our  Lord  did  not  name  in- 
dividuals to  whom  they  were  to  go,  and  who 
should,  from  first  to  last,  prove  themselves 
obedient  to  the  word  ;  He  did  not  even  name 
classes  of  persons  or  races  with  whom  they  would 
be  sure  to  find  success,  but  He  told  them  to  go 
into  all  the  world  and  invite  all  men  without  dis- 
tinction. The  preachers  of  the  kingdom  have  no 
powers  to  make  selections  for  God  ;  and  to  say  of 
one  that  he  will  be,  and  of  another  that  he  will 
never  be  valuable  to  God.  They  are  to  cast  the 
net  so  as  to  embrace  all,  and  leave  the  determina- 
tion of  what  is  bad  and  what  is  good  to  the  end. 
Before  endeavoring  to  extract  from  the  parable 
its  direct  teaching,  one  cannot  fail  to  notice  some 
more  general  ideas  suggested  by  the  figure  used. 
We  are,  for  example,  reminded  that  we  are  all 
advancing  through  life  towards  its  final  issue. 
Our  condition  in  this  respect  bears  a  close  resem- 
blance to  fish  enclosed  in  a  net.  You  have  seen 
men  dragging  a  river,  fixing  one  end  of  the  net, 


THE   NET.  lOI 

taking  the  other  across  the  whole  stream,  and 
then  fetching  a  wide  compass,  and  enclosing  in 
their  net  everything  dead  or  alive,  bad  or  good, 
from  surface  to  bottom.  Or  you  have  seen  the 
same  thing  done  in  the  sea,  one  net  enclosing 
quite  a  lake  within  itself,  and  gradually  as  it  closes 
round  the  fish,  and  they  find  that  it  is  sunk  to  the 
sand  and  floated  to  the  crest  of  the  wave,  you 
have  pitied  their  wild  efforts  to  escape,  and  seen 
how  sure  a  barrier  these  imperceptible  meshes 
are.  At  first,  while  the  net  is  wide,  they  frisk  and 
leap  and  seem  free,  but  soon  they  discover  that 
their  advance  is  but  in  one  direction,  and  when 
they  halt  they  feel  the  pressure  of  the  net.  So 
is  it  with  ourselves — we  must  go  on,  we  cannot 
breakthrough  into  the  past,  we  cannot  ever  again 
be  at  the  same  distance  from  the  shore  as  we  were 
last  year,  yesterday,  now.  Yesterday,  however 
delightful,  you  cannot  live  twice;  eternity,  how- 
ever distasteful,  you  are  certainly  going  on  to. 
This  day  you  have  less  space  and  scope  than  ever 
you  had  before,  and  every  hour  you  spend,  every 
action  you  do,  every  pleasure  you  enjoy  makes 
this  little  space  less.  You  cannot  make  time  stand 
still  till  you  shall  resolve  how  to  spend  it.  You 
cannot  bring  your  life  to  a  pause  while  you  make 
experiments  as  to  the  best  mode  of  living.  The 
years  you  spend  ill,  you  cannot  receive  again  to 
spend  well,  the  years  spent  in  indecision,  in  doubt, 
in  selfish  seclusion  are  spent,  and  cannot  now  be 


102  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

filled  with  service  of  God  and  profit  to  your 
fellows.  Your  lifetime  you  have  but  once,  and 
each  hour  of  it  but  once  ;  and  as  remorselessly  as 
the  last  night  of  the  convicted  criminal  is  beat 
out  and  brings  round  the  morning  that  is  to  look 
upon  his  death,  so  are  your  lives  running  steadily 
out,  never  faster  when  you  long  for  to-morrow, 
never  slower  when  you  fear  it,  but  ever  with  the 
same  measured  and  certain  advance.  Do  what 
you  will,  make  what  plans  you  will,  settle  your- 
self as  fixedly  in  this  life  as  you  will,  you  are  pass- 
ing through  and  out  of  it,  and  shall  one  day  look  on 
it  as  all  past — forever  past.  By  no  will  of  our 
own  have  we  come  into  this  life,  but  here  we  find 
ourselves  and  the  net  fallen  behind  us,  so  that  we 
must  accept  all  the  responsibilities  of  human  life, 
and  go  on  to  meet  all  its  consequences. 

Besides  enclosure  and  inevitable  passing  on  to 
a  termination,  the  net  suggests  the  idea  of  en- 
tanglement. Looking  at  fish  in  a  net  you  see 
many  that  are  not  swimming  freely,  but  are 
caught  in  the  meshes  and  dragged  on.  The  ex- 
perience of  some  persons  interprets  this  to  them. 
While  all  of  us  are  drawing  on  together  towards 
eternity  there  are  some  who  feel  daily  the  pres- 
sure of  the  net.  They  have  got  into  circumstances 
which  they  would  fain  be  out  of  but  cannot. 
Their  position  is  not  altogether  of  their  own 
choosing,  and  they  discharge  its  duties  because 
they  must,  not  because    they  would.     At  some 


THE   NET.  103 

former  period  they  were  too  careless,  or  short- 
sighted, or  irresolute  ;  they  exercised  too  little 
their  right  to  determine  their  own  course,  and  they 
now  suffer  the  bondage  consequent  on  this  neglect. 

If  the  conduct  required  of  you  by  the  position 
or  connection  into  which  you  have  come  be  dis- 
approved by  your  conscience,  then  you  must 
somehow  break  through  and  escape,  else  your 
soul  will  suffer  detriment,  and  that  in  you  which 
was  good  when  first  you  were  entangled  will  be 
landed  broken,  bruised,  and  useless.  But  if  the 
conduct  required  be  only  disagreeable  and  humil- 
iating and  not  sinful,  you  may  have  to  adjust 
yourself  to  your  circumstances.  Do  not  toss  and 
struggle  in  the  net,  but  quietly  set  yourself  to 
make  the  most  of  the  condition  you  have  unfortu- 
nately brought  yourself  into.  It  may  now  be 
your  duty  to  continue  in  a  position  it  was  not 
your  duty  originally  to  enter.  A  wrong  choice 
may  have  brought  you  to  a  right  thing.  Do  not, 
therefore,  allow  any  feeling  of  the  awkwardness, 
restrictions,  unsuitableness,  or  painfulness  of  your 
position,  nor  any  reflections  on  the  folly  that 
brought  you  into  it,  to  fret  you  into  uselessness. 
Just  because  it  seems  in  so  m.any  ways  unsuitable, 
it  may  call  out  deeper  qualities  in  you,  a  patience 
which  otherwise  might  have  been  undeveloped, 
a  knowledge  of  God  and  man,  a  meekness  and 
strength,  which  enlarge  and  mature  your  spirit. 

Under  very  strange  influences  and  forces  are 


IC4  THE   PARABLES   OF  OUR   LORD. 

we  passing  onwards  ;  by  hopes  and  ambitions,  by 
sickness  and  watching,  by  anguish  and  mirth,  by 
the  forlorn  remembrance  of  a  happy  past  and 
the  sad  forecasting  of  the  future,  by  occupations 
that  hurry  us  on  from  day  to  day,  and  by  longings 
that  abide  with  us  through  life  and  are  never 
satisfied.  And  often  we  would  fain  escape  from 
the  gentle  compulsion  by  which  God  draws  us  to 
our  end,  and  have  to  remind  ourselves  that  how- 
ever entangled  and  tied  up  we  are,  and  however 
prevented  from  our  own  ways  and  directions, 
this  present  time  is  after  all  but  the  drawing  of 
the  net  and  not  the  time  of  our  use  ;  that  though 
now  debarred  from  many  pursuits  we  think  we 
might  be  useful  in,  and  hurried  past  enjoyments 
that  delight  us,  we  are  passing  to  a  shore  where 
there  is  room  and  time  enough  for  the  fulfilment 
of  every  human  purpose  and  the  exercise  of  every 
human  faculty  ;  that  after  all  our  sins  and  follies, 
after  all  our  pains  and  anxieties  and  difficulties, 
there  does  most  surely  come  the  kingdom  of  heav- 
en and  its  glorious  liberty.  Here  we  quickly  wax 
old,  our  freedom  of  choice  and  liberty  of  action 
are  quickly  taken  from  us,  we  stretch  forth  our 
hands  and  another  girds  us  and  carries  us  whither 
we  would  not ;  but  there  our  youth  shall  be  re- 
newed with  all  its  freedom  from  care,  its  spring 
and  energy,  its  fresh  views  of  truth,  its  boldness 
to  live  and  see  good  days,  its  purpose  for  the  life 
that  lies  before  it  unsullied  ;  and  it  shall  be  again 


THE  NET.  105 

as  when  "  thou  wast  young  and  girdedst  thyself 
and  walkedst  whither  thou  wouldest." 

But  these  are  not  the  points  emphasized  in  the 
parable.  The  parable  sets  the  present  mixture  of 
good  and  bad  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven  or  in  the 
Church  over  against  the  eventual  separation. 

I.  First  then,  we  have  the  truth  that  the  net 
gathers  *'  of  every  kind."  This  is  the  first  thing 
that  strikes  one  looking  at  a  net  drawn  ashore — 
the  confused  mass  of  dead  and  living  rubbish  and 
prize.  Shells,  mud,  starfish,  salt-smelling  weed, 
useless  refuse  of  all  kinds,  are  mingled  with  the 
fresh  and  wholesome  fish  that  lie  gasping  and 
floundering  in  the  net.  Of  the  bad  there  is  every 
kind  of  thing  that  can  spoil  the  net  and  injure  its 
contents  ;  and  of  the  good  there  is  every  kind, 
small  and  great,  coarse  and  fine.  And  until  the 
net  is  fairly  landed  it  is  impossible  to  say  whether 
the  weight  is  to  be  rejoiced  in  or  not.  This  is 
set  before  us  as  a  picture  of  the  Church  of  Christ 
as  it  now  is.  It  embraces  every  variety  of  charac- 
ter. At  one  time  we  are  tempted  to  think  that 
fhe  mass  of  professing  Christians  is  but  so  much 
dead  weight ;  at  other  times  we  measure  the 
success  of  the  gospel  by  the  mere  numbers  brought 
within  the  Church.  The  truth  is,  we  cannot  yet 
say  much  about  the  success  of  the  gospel.  Oc- 
casionally indeed  there  may  be  a  gleam  through 
the  water  that  gives  assurance  of  a  large  and  fine 
fish  :    there  may  be  deeds  done  which  draw  the  eye 


I06  THE    PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

of  every  one,  and  unmistakably  prove  that  in  the 
Church  there  are  men  after  God's  own  heart.  We 
feel  that  of  some  men  the  character  and  quality 
are  already  ascertained,  and  that  it  needs  no  day 
of  separation  to  tell  us  their  worth.  But  there 
remains  a  vast  mass  about  which  we  can  say 
little  ;  nay,  we  know  that  in  the  Church  there  are 
foul,  lumpish,  poisonous  creatures.  This  is  what 
our  Lord  anticipated,  that  while  His  Church 
would  attract  men  whom  God  would  gather  to 
Him  with  delight  as  being  of  His  own  spirit, 
there  would  also  be  drawn  to  it  a  number  of 
wretched  creatures  who  would  go  through  life 
trying  to  hide  from  themselves  that  they  love  the 
world  much  more  than  God,  and  who  must  in  the 
end  be  thrown  aside  as  fit  for  no  good  purpose, 
as  so  much  useless  rubbish. 

This  mixture  arises  from  the  manner  in  which 
the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  proclaimed  among 
men.  It  is  not  proclaimed  by  addressing  private 
messages  to  selected  and  approved  individuals, 
but  publicly  to  all.  And  it  is  so  proclaimed  be- 
cause it  is  for  men  generally  and  not  for  any 
special  kind  or  class,  and  because  God  "  would 
have  all  men  to  be  saved."  The  recruiting 
sergeant  watches  for  likely  men  and  singles  them 
out  from  the  crowd  ;  but  the  kingdom  of  heaven 
opens  its  gates  to  all,  because  it  has  that  which 
appeals  to  humanity  at  large,  and  can  make  use 
of  every  kind  of  man  who  honestly  attaches  him- 


THE   NET.  107 

self  to  it.  Our  freedom  of  choice  is  left  absolutely 
uncontrolled  so  far  as  the  outward  offer  of  the 
gospel  goes  ;  it  is  not  even  biassed  by  any  knowl- 
edge on  our  part  that  we  are  considered  specially 
suitable  for  the  work  God  has  to  do.  Christ's 
kingdom  gathers  in  not  only  those  in  w^hom  there 
is  a  natural  leaning  towards  a  devout  life,  or 
those  who  are  of  a  susceptible  temperament,  or 
those  who  are  attracted  by  a  life  of  self-sacrifice, 
but  it  gathers  in  *'  of  every  kind."  You  really  can- 
not say  who  among  your  friends  is  most  likely  to 
become  a  Christian,  because  men  become  Chris- 
tians not  from  any  apparent  predisposition,  not 
because  religion  suits  their  idiosyncrasy,  their  in- 
dividual mood  and  special  tastes,  but  because  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  satisfies  human  wants  which 
are  as  common  to  the  race  as  hunger  and  thirst. 
But  the  kingdom  being  thus  open  to  all,  many 
enter  it  for  the  sake  of  some  of  its  advantages, 
while  they  remain  at  heart  disloyal,  and  are  never 
carried  out  of  themselves  by  a  sense  of  its  glory, 
and  are  alien  to  that  great  movement  for  the  last- 
ing good  of  men  which  the  kingdom  truly  is. 
They  have  an  external  present  attachment  to  the 
kingdom,  but  they  do  not  belong  to  it  and  are 
not  in  it  heart  and  soul. 

But  this  mixture  is  at  length  to  give  place. 
In  the  net,  while  we  are  in  this  world,  all  dis- 
tinctions seem  to  be  made  light  of ;  in  the  end, 
on  the  shore,  a  final  and  real  distinction  is  to  be 


I08  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

exhibited  and  acted  on.  All  are  to  pass  through 
the  hands  of  skilled  judgment.  The  angels  sever 
the  wicked  from  among  the  just,  so  that  the  just 
alone  are  left  in  the  net.  The  purpose  of  the  net, 
of  the  draught,  of  the  whole  ongoing  of  this  world 
is  at  length  seen  to  have  been  for  the  sake  of  the 
just.  Much  bulkier,  weightier,  noisier,  brighter 
colored,  more  curious  things  are  drawn  up,  but 
these  are  cast  aside  summarily — it  was  not  to 
secure  these  the  net  was  drawn.  The  fishermen 
were  not  mere  naturalists  dragging  for  what  is 
curious  and  rare ;  not  mere  idlers  fishing  for  sport 
and  caring  little  for  the  tise  of  the  result ;  not  mere 
children  amazed  and  delighted  with  every  strange 
or  huge  thing  they  land  ;  but  they  have  cast  the 
net  for  a  purpose,  and  whatever  is  not  suitable 
for  this  purpose  is  refuse  and  rubbish  to  them. 
The  huge  creature  that  has  been  a  terror  to  the 
deep,  the  lovely  sea  plant  that  has  waved  its 
fruitless  head  in  the  garden  of  the  sea — these  are 
not  twice  looked  at  by  the  fishermen.  They  are 
acting  on  an  understanding  that  the  net  was  drawn 
for  a  purpose. 

And  so  it  shall  be  in  the  end  of  the  world. 
The  end  is  not  a  mere  running  down  of  the 
machinery  that  keeps  the  world  going,  it  is  not 
a  mere  exhaustion  of  the  life  that  keeps  us  all 
alive,  it  is  not  a  hap-hazard  cutting  of  the  thread, 
it  is  a  conclusion,  coming  as  truly  in  its  own  fit 
day  and  order,  as  much  in  the  fulness  of  time  and 


THE  NET.  109 

because  things  are  ripe  for  it,  as  the  birth  of 
Christ  came.  It  is  the  time  of  the  gathering  up 
of  all  things  to  completion,  when  the  few  last 
finishing  strokes  are  given  to  the  work,  that 
suddenly  show  the  connection  of  things  which 
seemed  widely  separate,  and  reveal  at  once  the 
purpose  and  meaning  of  the  whole.  Men  will 
then  understand,  what  now  scarcely  one  can  con- 
stantly believe,  that  it  is  God's  purpose  that  is 
silently  being  accomplished,  and  that  it  is  useful- 
ness to  Him  that  is  the  final  standard  of  value. 

The  distinction  which  finally  separates  men 
into  two  classes  must  be  real  and  profound.  It 
is  here  said  to  be  otir  value  to  God.  Are  we  use- 
less to  Him,  or  can  He  make  us  serve  any  good 
purpose  ?  Have  we  become  so  wholly  demoralized 
by  a  selfish,  limited  life,  that  we  cannot  cherish 
any  cordial  desire  for  the  common  good,  or  enter 
into  sympathy  with  purposes  that  do  not  promise 
profit  or  pleasure  to  ourselves  ?  You  have  some 
idea  what  the  purposes  of  God  are  ;  you  see  these 
purposes  in  the  life  and  death  of  Christ  ;  you 
know  that  in  God's  purposes  that  which  contrib- 
utes to  the  elevation  of  character  takes  prece- 
dence of  what  merely  secures  outward  comfort  or 
present  advantage  ;  you  recognize  that  His  Spirit 
delights  in  deeds  of  mercy,  of  self-sacrifice,  of  holy 
service — have  you,  then,  such  qualities  as  would 
be  helpful  in  carrying  out  such  purposes  ?  are  you 
already  influential  in  society  for   good,  helpful  in 


no     THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

extirpating  vice  and  crime,  and  in  alleviating  the 
wretchedness  of  disease  and  poverty  ?  do  your 
sympathies  and  your  thoughts  run  much  towards 
such  an  expenditure  of  your  energies?  have  you 
the  first  requisite  of  His  servants,  such  a  partici- 
pation in  His  love  for  men,  and  such  a  zeal  for 
the  advancement  of  the  race  as  wither  within  you 
all  isolating  and  debasing  selfishness? 

The  fish  taken  in  the  net  are  disposed  of  by 
the  fishermen,  and  are  in  their  hands  without 
choice  or  motion.  A  minute  before  they  were 
swimming  hither  and  thither,  moving  themselves 
by  their  own  energies  ;  now  they  are  dealt  with 
according  to  a  judgment  not  their  own.  The 
situation  is  not  more  novel  to  the  fishes  than  it 
will  be  to  us.  Here  in  this  world  we  are  con- 
scious of  a  power  to  choose  our  own  destiny,  to 
change  our  character,  and  become  different  from 
what  we  are.  We  are  not  yet  all  we  ought  to 
be,  but  we  can  discard  evil  habits,  repress  base 
motives,  and  become  at  length  suitable  for  God's 
work,  harmonious  with  Him  through  all  our 
being.  So  we  flatter  ourselves.  But  there  comes 
a  time,  when,  whatever  we  are,  that  we  shall  for- 
ever be  ;  when  we  shall  be,  as  it  were,  passive 
in  the  grip  of  destiny,  disposed  of  by  it,  and  un- 
able to  resist  or  alter  it  ;  when  we  shall  find  that 
the  time  for  choosing  is  past,  and  that  we  must 
accept  and  abide  by  the  consequences  of  our  past 
choices;  when   for  us  the  irrevocable  word  shall 


THE   NET.  Ill 

have  gone  forth,  "  He  that  is  filthy,  let  him  be 
filthy  still ;  and  he  that  is  holy,  let  him  be  holy 
still." 

Amidst  the  sudden  revolutions  of  thought  and 
revulsion  of  feeling,  amidst  the  utter  discomfiture 
of  many  a  hope  on  that  day  when  the  net  is  drawn 
and  we  are  all  suddenly  thrown  out  on  the  eternal 
shore,  will  your  hope  not  fail  you  ?  As  you  antici- 
pate the  hand  that  is  to  separate  the  good  from 
the  bad,  do  you  rejoice  that  a  penetrating  eye  and 
an  unerring  wisdom  will  guide  it?  do  you  rejoice 
that  it  is  God  who  is  coming  to  judge  the 
world  in  righteousness,  and  that  no  mistake  can 
be  made,  no  superficial  distinction  hide  the  real 
one? 

It  is  possible  some  one  may  defend  himself 
against  the  parable  by  saying,  "  I  will  not  alarm 
myself  by  judging  of  my  destiny  by  my  own 
qualities;  I  am  trusting  to  Christ."  But  precisely 
in  so  far  as  you  are  trusting  to  Christ,  you  have 
those  qualities  which  the  final  judgment  will 
require  you  to  show.  "  If  any  man  hath  not 
the  Spirit  of  Christ,  he  is  none  of  His."  You  are 
useful  to  God  in  so  far  as  you  have  the  Spirit  of 
Christ.  Plainly  the  criterion  given  by  the  par- 
able is  the  only  sufificient  criterion  by  which  men 
can  be  judged  as  they  issue  from  this  life.  Are 
they  in  such  sympathy  with  God  as  to  be  capable 
of  entering  into  His  work  and  ways  in  the  future, 
or  have  they  only  cultivated  habits  and  qualities 


112  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

which  served  them  for  a  life  that  is  now  past  ? 
Only  by  what  we  are,  can  we  be  finally  judged  ; 
not  by  what  we  believe,  but  by  what  our  belief 
has  made  us;  not  by  what  we  profess,  not  by 
what  we  know,  but  by  the  results  in  character  of 
what  we  have  professed  and  known.  In  the  final 
judgment,  we  shall  not  be  required  to  assert  that 
we  are  converted  persons,  or  that  we  are  trusting 
in  Christ ;  we  shall  not  be  required  to  assert  any- 
thing; but  our  future  shall  be  determined  by  our 
actual  fitness  for  it.  Fitness  for  carrying  on 
God's  work  in  the  future,  fitness  for  helping  for- 
ward the  cause  of  humanity  in  the  future,  fitness 
for  living  in  and  finding  our  joy  in  the  future 
which  Christ's  Spirit  is  to  rule,  we  must  have  if 
we  are  to  enter  that  future.  Get  the  fitness  how 
you  may,  it  is  this  you  must  have.  If  you  can 
get  it  by  some  other  means  than  by  adherence  to 
Christ  and  the  reception  of  His  Spirit,  use  that 
means,  but  this  fitness  you  must  have. 

And  I  think  any  one  who  seriously  accepts 
this  as  the  real  outlook  for  us  men  will  feel  that 
he  cannot  do  better  than  go  to  school  to  Christ 
that  he  may  acquire  not  only  a  perception  of 
what  this  fitness  is,  but  that  genuine  humility 
and  absorption  in  great  and  eternal  aims  which 
are  its  prime  requisites.  Apart  from  Christ,  men 
may  be  good  handicraftsmen,  they  may  be  gifted 
with  genius  that  delights  and  aids  mankind  and 
beautifies  life,  they  may  see   clearly  what  consti- 


THE  NET.  113 

tutes  civil  prosperity,  in  one  way  or  other  they 
may  materially  help  forward  the  common  cause  ; 
but  if  after  all  they  are  not  in  sympathy  with  the 
purpose  of  the  king  who  rules  and  heads  the  for- 
ward movement,  if  their  motives  in  using  their 
gifts  are  still  selfish,  it  can  never  be  said  to  them, 
"  Enter  thou  into  the  joy  of  thy  Lord."  His  joy 
is  a  joy  they  are  not  prepared  to  share,  if  they 
have  sought  their  own  advantage  and  not  with 
Him  sacrificed  themselves  to  the  common  good. 
It  is  impossible  to  say  who  are  helping  and  who  are 
hindering  the  cause  of  Christ ;  and  happily  it  is 
not  our  part  to  judge.  The  aims  and  ideas  which 
Christ  introduced  to  the  minds  of  men  have  so 
permeated  society  that  no  one  can  grow  up  in  a 
Christian  country  without  coming  more  or  less  in 
contact  with  them.  And  the  Spirit  of  Christ 
may  have  wrought  in  men  in  ways  we  are  quite 
unable  to  trace.  But  it  would  seem  as  if  only 
through  Christ  it  were  possible  for  us  to  come 
into  that  full  sympathy  at  once  with  God  and 
with  men,  which  we  see  so  clearly  in  His  life 
and  death,  and  which  also  is  our  salvation  from 
selfish  isolation  and  all  ungodliness  and  in- 
humanity. It  is  serviceableness  which  is  to  de- 
termine our  entrance  into  or  exclusion  from  the 
future  of  God  ;  or,  as  God  does  not  desire  service 
in  which  is  no  spirit  of  fellowship,  but  rather  the 
intelligent  and  delighted  co-operation  of  sons,  it 

is  sonship  that  determines  our  destiny.     And  who 
8 


114  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

but  Christ  enables  us  to  see  what  sonship  is  and 
to  become  sons?  How  is  that  tender,  humble, 
sin-fearing,  reverent  spirit  of  God's  children  to  be 
produced,  how  has  it  ever  been  produced,  save 
by  the  acceptance  of  Christ  as  God  the  Son  dying 
for  our  sin  to  bring  us  to  the  Father  ? 


THE  UNMERCIFUL  SERVANT; 

OR, 

THE  UNFORGIVING  DEBTOR. 

Matt,  xviii.  23-35. 

The  occasion  of  this  parable  was  a  question 
put  by  Peter.  Our  Lord  has  once  again  been 
warning  His  disciples  against  that  self-sufficient 
spirit  which  makes  men  quarrelsome  and  im- 
placable and  censorious.  Their  ambitious  tem- 
per had  been  again  showing  itself  in  the  discus- 
sion of  their  favorite  topic :  "  Who  is  the 
greatest  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven  ?  "  They  had 
been  betraying  their  eagerness  to  be  influential 
and  important  persons,  their  proneness  therefore 
to  despise  the  uninfluential  and  to  treat  with 
harshness  the  "  little  ones  "  of  the  kingdom,  those 
who  were  weak  and  erring  and  always  needing 
forgiveness.  Our  Lord  therefore  warns  them 
that  the  little  ones  rather  than  the  great  ones 
are  His  care,  and  that  provision  is  made  in  His 
kingdom  not  for  those  who  need  no  forgiveness, 
not  for  those  who  can  see  only  the  faults  and 
weaknesses  of  others,  but  for  those  who  make 
constant  demands  on  mercy. 

But  Peter,  when  he  hears  the  precept   that  he 

115 


Il6  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

must  gain  his  brother  by  forgiving  him  his  tres- 
pass, foresees  the  very  probable  result,  that  his 
brother  thus  forgiven  will  repeat  his  offense,  and 
puts  therefore  the  question  whether  some  differ- 
ent treatment  ought  not  then  to  be  adopted. 
"  How  often,"  he  says,  ''shall  I  forgive  my 
brother  ?  "  He  knew  the  Jewish  rule  :  Forgive 
a  first  offense,  forgive  a  second,  a  third — punish 
the  fourth.  And  he  seems  to  wish  to  meet  at 
once  the  most  liberal  sentiments  of  his  Master  in 
expanding  this  common  law  to  more  than  double 
its  original  measure :  "  Shall  I  forgive  him  till 
seven  times?"  But  this  question  was  framed  in 
the  very  spirit  of  the  old  law  of  retaliation.  By 
proposing  any  limit  whatever  to  forgiveness, 
Peter  showed  that  he  still  considered  that  to  for- 
give was  the  exceptional  thing,  was  to  forego  a 
right  which  must  some  time  be  reassumed,  was  not 
an  eternal  law  of  the  kingdom  but  only  a  tentative 
measure  which  at  any  moment  may  be  revoked  ; 
that  underneath  the  forgiveness  we  extend  to  an 
erring  brother  there  lies  a  right  to  revenge  which 
we  may  at  any  time  assert.  This  feeling  wher- 
ever it  exists  shows  that  we  are  living  with  re- 
taliation for  the  law,  forgiveness  for  the  excep- 
tion. But  Christ's  law  is,  that  forgiveness  shall 
be  unlimited :  "  I  say  not  unto  seven  times,  but 
until  seventy  times  seven  " — that  is  to  say  an  un- 
told number  of  times.  Seven  was  with  the  Jews 
the  number  of  perfection.     When   time  has  run 


THE   UNMERCIFUL   SERVANT.  II7 

through  seven  days,  it  begins  again  ;  the  circle  is 
complete.  So  that  no  expression  could  more 
forcibly  convey  the  impression  of  endless,  ever- 
renewed,  eternal  iteration  than  "  seventy  times 
seven." 

The  parable  is  added  to  illustrate  the  hateful- 
ness  of  an  unforgiving  spirit.  In  it  the  Lord 
gibbets  the  implacable  temper  of  the  man  who 
refuses  to  extend  to  others  the  forgiveness  he 
himself  needs.  His  own  debt  of  something  like 
two  millions  sterling  indicates  that  he  occupied 
a  position  of  trust,  and  had  exceptional  oppor- 
tunity of  advancing  his  Lord's  interests.  And 
probably  the  magnitude  of  the  debt  was  intended 
not  merely  to  suggest  the  vastness  of  the  liabili- 
ties of  all  men  to  God,  but  also  to  hint  to  the 
Apostles  that  men  so  closely  allied  to  their  Lord 
as  they  were,  might  possibly  incur  a  greater  debt 
than  those  in  an  inferior  position  had  opportunity 
of  incurring. 

It  may  seem  as  if  there  were  some  inconsist- 
ency between  the  two  parts  of  our  Lord's  direc- 
tions regarding  the  treatment  of  an  offending 
brother.  In  the  parable  and  in  His  direct  an- 
swer to  Peter's  question  He  speaks  as  if  the  sole 
duty  of  an  injured  person  were  to  forgive.  In 
the  preceding  verses  He  speaks  as  if  much  more 
were  needful,  and  indeed  He  lays  down  the 
principles  which  have  ever  since  governed,  theo- 
retically at  least,  ecclesiastical  prosecutions.     An 


Il8  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

injured  person  is  not  to  act  as  a  strong  healthy 
minded,  good-natured  man  is  very  apt  to  act. 
He  is  not  to  say  to  himself,  ''  What  does  it  mat- 
ter that  so-and-so  has  called  me  '  cheat  '  or  *  liar  ;  * 
my  character  will  outlive  his  attacks ;  what  harm 
has  he  done  save  to  himself  by  circulating 
slanders  about  me,  or  by  taking  me  into  the  ex- 
tent of  a  few  pounds?  I  am  not  going  to  dirty 
my  hands  or  bother  my  head  about  such  a  poor 
creature."  No  doubt  there  are  slight  injuries  of 
which  this  is  the  proper  treatment.  To  notice 
them  at  all  would  be  to  make  them  of  more  im- 
portance than  is  wise.  But  this  may  be  carried 
too  far;  and  it  is  frequently  carried  too  far  by  the 
easy-going  pleasant-tempered  men  who  are  so 
agreeable  an  element  in  society.  There  are,  says 
our  Lord,  offenses  of  which  the  proper  treatment 
is  to  go  to  the  offending  party  and  remonstrate 
with  him.  There  are  few  more  disagreeable 
duties  in  life,  but  sometimes  it  is  a  duty.  There 
are  matters  that  come  to  your  knowledge  which 
you  cannot  pass  by — you  feel  that  if  you  do  so, 
it  is  because  of  an  element  of  cowardliness  in  your 
nature.  Duty  requires  you  to  go  to  the  offend- 
ing party  and  endeavor  to  bring  him  to  repent- 
ance. 

But  this  treatment  and  all  that  follows  it  is  in 
strict  harmony  with  the  injunction  to  forgive,  for 
you  are  never  required  to  forgive  an  impenitent 
person  :  but  you  are  required — and  this  is,  I  think, 


THE   UNMERCIFUL  SERVANT.  I19 

a  duty  more  difficult  and  more  frequently  neglect 
ed  than  even  the  duty  of  forgiveness — you  are- 
required  to  do  all  you  can  to  bring  to  repentance 
the  person  who  has  injured  you.  To  forgive  the 
man  who  has  wronged  you,  when  he  comes  hum- 
bling himself,  admitting  he  was  wrong  and  heartily 
begging  you  to  forgive  him,  in  most  actual  cases 
makes  no  great  call  on  Christian  charity  :  but  to 
go  affectionately  and  without  a  spark  of  vindictive 
feeling  to  the  man  who  has  done  you  a  wrong, 
and  strive  patiently  to  make  it  as  plain  to  him  as 
it  is  to  yourself  that  he  has  done  wrong,  and  so 
to  do  this  as  to  win  your  brother — this  seems  to 
be  about  the  highest  reach  of  Christian  virtue  we 
are  likely  to  meet  in  this  present  world. 

There  is  another  initial  difficulty.  Not  only  do 
we  feel  it  almost  impossible  to  forgive  certain  in- 
juries, but  some  well-instructed  Christian  writers 
explicitly  maintain  that  there  are  injuries  which 
men  ought  not  to  forgive."  One  who  has  done 
much  to  elevate  the  tone  of  modern  literature, 
introduces  the  following  lines  in  his  most  celebrat- 
ed drama : 

"  Oh  sirs,  look  round  you  lest  you  be  deceived, 
Forgiveness  may  be  spoken  with  the  tongue, 

*  On  this  point,  see  the  remarkable  chapter  on  Forgiveness,  in 
«'  Ecce  Homo,"  from  which  the  thought  of  this  paragraph  is 
derived.  The  Author  cites  a  modern  novelist  who  makes  one 
of  his  characters  say  :  "  There  are  some  wrongs  that  no  one  ought 
to  forgive,  and  I  shall  be  a  villain  on  the  day  I  shake  that  man's 
hand." 


120  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

Forgiveness  may  be  written  with  the  pen, 

But  think  not  that  the  parchment   and  mouth  pardon 

Will  e'er  eject  old  hatreds  from  the  heart. 

There's  that  betwixt  you  been  men  ne'er  forget 

Till  they  forget  themselves,  till  all's  forgot. 

Till  the  deep  sleep  falls  on  them  in  that  bed 

From  which  no  morrow's  mischief  knocks  them  up." 

It  might  seem  then  as  if  those  who  knew  human 
life  best  agreed  that  there  is  a  limitation  which 
must  be  put  to  forgivenesss,  that  there  are  in- 
juries which  no  man  can  be  expected  to  forgive  or 
can  forgive,  that  there  are  circumstances  in  which 
this  rule  of  Christ's  must  be  set  aside. 

Let  us  test  this  idea  by  a  very  simple  instance. 
Some  of  the  most  thoroughly  Christian  and  wise 
headmasters  have  been  inclined  to  wink  at  fight- 
ing among  their  boys,  taking  care  that  it  does 
not  become  too  frequent  nor  go  any  serious 
length.  And  even  the  most  forgiving  and  Christ- 
like of  parents  is  not  altogether  comfortable  if  his 
boy  comes  home  from  school  and  tells  him  that 
he  was  grossly  insulted  and  struck  by  a  boy 
somewhat  bigger  than  himself,  but  that  instead 
of  defending  himself  he  forgave  the  offender. 
Why  then  is  the  parent  not  quite  comfortable, 
why  would  most  parents  be  really  more  gratified 
to  hear  that  their  boy  had  fought  a  bigger  boy, 
than  that  when  struck  he  had  turned  the  other 
cheek  ?  Simply  because  most  parents  might  have 
some  suspicion  that  softness  and  cowardliness 
had  as  much  to  do  with  the  turning  of  the   other 


THE   UNMERCIFUL   SERVANT.  121 

cheek  as  Christian  feeling.  If  they  had  unmis- 
takable proof  of  their  boy's  courage  and  man- 
liness, if  they  were  perfectly  sure  that  fear  was 
a  quite  unknown  feeling  to  their  boy,  they  would 
delight  in  his  having  forgiven  insolence  and  ill- 
treatment.  But  unfortunately  fear  and  a  craven 
spirit  are  so  much  commoner  than  high  spirit 
moderated  by  Christian  temper,  that  wherever 
gross  injuries  are  forgiven,  we  are  apt  to  ascribe 
this  apparently  Christian  conduct  to  that  spirit 
which  is  at  the  very  antipodes  from  the  spirit  of 
Christ.  The  parent  does  not  think  his  boy  ought 
not  to  forgive — nay,  he  is  sure  that  is  the  highest 
and  manliest,  and  to  many  boys  the  most  difficult 
conduct — but  until  he  is  quite  sure  that  in  a  given 
case  the  forgiveness  has  sprung  not  from  a  sham 
magnanimity  thrown  over  a  sneaking  and  feeble 
character,  he  is  afraid  to  commend  it. 

So  it  is  everywhere.  There  is  110  limitation  to 
forgiveness  ;  no  injury  so  gross  that  it  ought  not 
to  be  forgiven.  But  there  are  injuries  so  gross 
that  when  men  forgive  them  they  are  sure  to  be 
suspected  of  doing  so  from  unworthy  motives. 
So  little  is  Christian  feeling  in  its  highest  reaches 
and  manifestations  counted  on,  so  little  is  it  seen 
or  even  understood,  that  when  a  man  forgives 
one  who  has  deeply  injured  him,  this  forgiveness 
is  apt  to  be  ascribed  to  what  is  mean,  and  not  to 
what  is  Christlike  in  the  injured  party.  But 
wherever,  as  in  the  case  of  our  Lord  Himself 


122  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

there  is  no  question  of  the  power  to  defeat  or 
the  courage  to  face  one's  enemies,  wherever  for- 
giveness can  be  ascribed  only  to  a  merciful  spirit, 
there  men  do  admire  the  disposition  to  forgive 
even  the  greatest  of  injuries. 

The  parable  is  intended  to  enforce  the  teach- 
ing of  our  Lord  regarding  forgiveness  by  exhibit- 
ing the  unreasonableness  and  meanness  and 
danger  of  an  unforgiving  spirit.  The  hatefulness 
of  such  a  spirit  is  emphasized  by  two  aggravating 
features : — 

1.  The  unmerciful  servant  had  himself  required 
forgiveness  and  had  just  been  forgiven. 

2.  The  debt  due  to  him  was  infinitesimally 
small  when  compared  with  the  debt  which  had 
been  remitted  to  him. 

I.  First,  the  man  is  not  softened  by  the  remis- 
sion of  his  own  great  debt.  He  goes  straight 
from  the  presence  of  his  master  who  had  forgiven 
him  all  his  talents,  and  lays  violent  hands  on  one 
of  his  associates  who  happened  to  owe  him  a  few 
shillings.  Having  just  been  forgiven,  he  might 
have  been  expected  to  remember,  with  humble 
and  softened  feeling,  that  there  is  a  better  law 
than  retaliation.  He  thought  mercy  a  good  thing 
so  long  as  he  was  the  object  of  it.  So  long  as  he 
was  in  the  presence  of  a  creditor  he  had  much  to 
say  of  the  calamity  of  debt,  a  thousand  reasons  to 
urge  for  the  exercise  of  patience,  and  a  thousand 
excuses  for  wrongdoing.     Five  minutes  after,  in 


THE    UNMERCIFUL   SERVANT.  1 23 

the  presence  of  a  debtor,  there  is  to  him  no  law 
in  the  world,  but  harsh  and  hasty  exaction  of 
dues.  He  is  deaf  to  the  reasons  which  had  filled 
his  own  mouth  immediately  before,  deaf  to  every- 
thing which  was  not  a  promise  to  pay,  and  that 
instantly. 

This  is  no  over-colored  picture.  It  is  over- 
colored  neither  as  a  representation  of  what  nat- 
urally occurs  in  connection  with  pecuniary  debts, 
nor  as  a  picture  of  the  treatment  which  sinners 
give  to  sinners  like  themselves.  Men  who  begin 
to  use  the  money  which  belongs  to  others,  and 
to  invest  on  their  own  account  funds  which 
either  do  not  exist  at  all  except  in  their  own 
hopes,  or  which  belong  to  others  and  are  only 
passing  through  their  hands,  become  deadened 
with  surprising  rapidity  to  all  sense  of  the  injury 
they  do.  If  they  prove  bankrupt,  it  is  much 
more  their  own  inconvenience  and  loss  they 
bewail  than  the  wrong  done  to  others.  The  enor- 
mous debtor  of  the  parable  betrayed  no  sense  of 
shame,  no  feeling  for  his  lord's  loss,  but  only 
craven  dread  of  slavery  and  personal  suffering. 
No  serious  humility,  no  honest  and  thoughtful 
facing  of  the  facts,  no  deep  truthfulness  have 
entered  his  spirit.  He  is  ready  to  promise  any- 
thing, if  he  can  only  escape  present  consequences. 

This  is  a  true  picture  of  the  temper  in  which 
we  sometimes  crave  pardon.  Our  iniquities  over- 
take us  with  a  throng  of  painful  and   overwhelm- 


124  THE    PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

ing  consequences,  and  in  terror  v^e  cry  for  for- 
giveness. But  the  distress  of  our  own  condition 
blinds  us  to  the  wrong  we  have  done,  and  no  true 
humiliation  enters  the  spirit.  Deadened  by  long 
self-indulgence  to  a  sense  of  everything  but  what 
directly  affects  himself  with  pleasure  or  pain,  the 
sinner  has  no  thought  of  the  deeper  spiritual  re- 
lations of  his  sin.  He  stupidly  thinks  God  with- 
holds punishment  because  he  has  made  a  foolish 
purpose  of  paying  his  dues  by  amending  his 
ways.  There  is  no  deep  contrition  ;  no  con- 
science-stricken yet  joyful  recognition  of  the 
relation  he  holds  to  God ;  no  intense  delight  and 
glorying  in  a  God  capable  of  passing  by  such 
transgressions  as  his ;  no  rising  of  the  spirit  to 
new  attachments  and  new  ideas;  no  "truth  in 
the  inward  parts,"  but  only  a  desire  to  escape, 
as  selfish  and  as  soft  as  was  the  desire  to  sin. 

But  the  forgiving  love  of  God,  if  it  does  not 
humble,  hardens  us.  To  carry  an  unhumbled, 
self-regarding  spirit  through  such  an  experience 
gives  the  finishing  touch  to  a  dehumanizing  self- 
ishness. We  have  a  key  here  to  the  conduct  of 
those  religious  persons  who  act  as  if  they  meant 
to  make  up  for  their  own  deficiencies  by  charg- 
ing others  with  theirs  ;  as  if  they  supposed  that 
the  violent  and  unrelenting  condemnation  of 
those  who  offend  them  were  the  fittest  exercise 
of  their  privilege  as  persons  forgiven  of  God. 
The  little  taste  of  religion  they  have  had   seems 


THE    UNMERCIFUL   SERVANT.  12$ 

to  have  soured  their  temper  and  hardened  their 
heart.  They  would  be  more  human  had  they  no 
religion  at  all.  Just  as  this  man  proposes  to 
build  up  his  credit  again  by  scrupulously  exact- 
ing every  farthing  that  others  owe  him,  so  do 
those  who  have  not  been  thoroughly  humbled  by 
God's  forgiveness  show  their  zeal  in  exposing  and 
reproving  the  faults  of  others.  So  far  from  being 
softened  and  enlarged  in  spirit  by  their  own  ex- 
perience of  mercy,  they  grow  more  punctilious 
in  their  exactions,  more  cruel  and  stiff  in  their 
demeanor. 

2.  Second,  the  petty  amount  of  the  debt  he 
exacts  is  set  over  against  the  enormity  of  that 
which  had  been  remitted  to  himself.  You  might 
expect  that  a  man  who  had  been  forgiven  talents 
would  have  no  heart  to  exact  pence.  You  would 
suppose  that  one  whose  eye  had  been  fixed  on  a 
kingdom's  revenue  would  not  know  how  to  count 
farthings.  There  is  something  almost  incredibly 
mean  as  well  as  savage  in  this  man's  quick  re- 
membrance of  the  few  pence  due  to  himself,  while 
he  so  easily  dismisses  from  his  mind  the  ten 
thousand  talents  due  by  him.  But  our  incredu- 
lity gives  way  as  we  look  at  the  facts  which  under- 
lie the  parable,  and  measure  the  debt  we  owe  to 
God  with  the  peccadilloes  committed  against  our- 
selves, and  which  we  are  so  slow  to  forget. 

What  are  the  offenses  which  we  feel  it  impos- 
sible to  forgive,  and  which  alienate  us  from  one 


126  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

another?  If  other  men  do  not  serve  us  well  and 
fulfil  our  expectations ;  if  they  do  not  throw 
themselves  heartily  into  our  work  and  perfectly 
accomplish  what  we  entrusted  to  them,  we  have 
no  forgiveness  for  them  ;  they  must  go.  Or  some 
one  has  been  so  presumptuous  as  to  differ  from 
us,  and  has  opposed  the  propagation  of  our  opin- 
ions on  some  political,  or  theological,  or  practical 
matter.  Or  men  patronize  us,  and  make  us  feel 
insignificant ;  or  they  tell  some  damaging  story 
about  us  ;  or  they  win  the  prize  that  we  worked 
for,  or  succeed  in  getting  possession  of  a  little 
bit  of  property  we  coveted.  Or  has  even  some 
grand  exceptional  injury  been  done  you?  has 
your  whole  life  been  darkened  and  altered  and 
obstructed  by  the  injustice  or  neglect  or  selfish- 
ness of  some  one,  whose  influence  circumstances 
compel  you  to  submit  to  ?  Is  there  some  one 
whom  you  cannot  think  of  but  with  a  tumult  in 
the  blood  and  a  passionate  emotion  ?  Take  the 
injury  that  is  most  difificult  for  you  to  forgive, 
and  measure  it  with  that  for  which  you  yourself 
need  to  ask  forgiveness  of  God,  and  say  whether 
you  ought  to  be  implacable  and  resolved  on 
revenge. 

I  suppose  there  are  few  persons  who  have  not 
often  sat  and  wondered  why  it  is  that  they  feel 
so  little  sense  of  obligation  to  God,  and  so  little 
shame  that  their  sins  are  sins  against  Him.  It 
is  so  difficult  for  us  to  have  any  genuine  shame 


THE    UNMERCIFUL   SERVANT.  12/ 

before  God,  though  so  easy  to  feel  it  before  men, 
that  we  are  sometimes  tempted  to  fancy  that  a 
sense  of  sin  must  after  all  be  a  fictitious  feeling, 
and  not  a  feeling  which  increases  in  intensity 
with  soundness  of  mind  and  clearness  of  mental 
vision.  Several  considerations,  however,  combine 
to  show  that  the  representation  given  in  the  par- 
able fairly  apportions  the  comparative  guilt  of 
sinning  against  God  and  sinning  against  man. 
All  our  sins  directly  or  indirectly  touch  God, 
while  only  a  few  touch  any  individual  on  earth. 
In  the  injuries  done  to  yourself  by  other  men  you 
may  be  able  to  detect  more  malice,  more  intention 
to  wound  and  injure  than  has  entered  into  any 
sin  you  have  committed  against  God.  But  then, 
what  are  the  obligations  which  bind  any  man  to 
your  service  compared  with  the  obligations  which 
bind  you  to  God  ?  For  whom  have  you  done,  or 
for  whom  can  you  do,  any  portion  of  that  which 
God  daily  does  for  you  ?  Debt  is  measured  by 
obligation.  There  can  be  no  debt  where  there 
has  been  no  obligation.  We  are  not  equally 
bound  to  all.  We  are  not  bound  to  educate  an- 
other man's  children  as  we  are  bound  to  educate 
our  own.  We  can  have  no  debt  to  a  shopkeeper 
from  whom  we  have  received  nothing.  And  our 
debt  to  God  is  enormous  because  we  have  received 
from  Him  benefits  deep  as  life  itself,  and  are 
bound  to  Him  in  ways  as  varied  as  the  manifest- 
ations of  that  life.     We  cannot  sin  against  one 


128  THE   PARABLES   OF  OUR   LUKU. 

another  as  we  can  sin  against  God.  Just  as  the 
servant  of  the  parable,  in  dealing  with  his  lord, 
had  intromissions  with  larger  sums  than  he  could 
touch  in  dealing  with  a  fellow-servant,  so  in  deal- 
ing with  God  we  are  lifted  to  relations  unique  in 
kind  and  of  surpassing  sacredness,  and  are  involved 
in  responsibilites  of  wider  and  deeper  consequence 
than  any  that  would  otherwise  attach  to  our  life. 
There  ought,  then,  to  be  some  proportion  be- 
tween our  perception  of  the  wrong  done  us  and 
the  wrong  we  do.  If  we  so  keenly  feel  the  prick 
of  a  needle  when  inflicted  on  ourselves,  we  may 
be  expected  to  consider  with  some  compunction 
the  gaping  wounds  we  inflict  on  another.  Is 
our  shame  for  sin  against  God  as  intense  and  real 
as  the  blaze  of  indignation,  or  is  it  continuous  and 
persistent  as  the  slow-burning  hate  which  an 
injury  done  to  ourselves  begets?  In  speaking  of 
those  who  defraud  or  injure  us  we  express  our 
opinion  of  what  wrong-doing  deserves.  Is  our 
judgment  as  explicit,  our  feeling  as  strongly  ex- 
pressed in  regard  to  our  own  transgressions  ?  As 
strongly  ?  But  they  ought  to  be  a  thousand 
times  more  vehement ;  there  should  be  against 
ourselves  an  indignation  such  as  no  enemy  of  ours 
could  excite  against  himself  though  his  offenses 
were  many  times  aggravated.  And  what  after 
all,  is  our  reputation,  our  happiness,  our  property, 
that  we  should  make  much  wail  about  injury  done 
to  them?     Our  good  name  and  our  advancement 


THE   UNMERCIFUL   SERVANT.  1 29 

in  the  world  are  no  doubt  much  to  ourselves,  but 
they  are  of  very  little  moment  indeed  to  the  world 
at  large. 

The  fate  of  the  unmerciful  servant  tells  us  in 
the  plainest  language  that  the  mere  canceling  of 
our  guilt  does  not  save  us.  It  tells  us  that  unless 
the  forgiveness  of  God  humbles  us  and  begets 
within  us  a  truly  meek  and  loving  spirit,  we  can- 
not be  owned  as  His  children.  The  best  as- 
surance that  we  are  ourselves  forgiven  is  the  con- 
sciousness that  the  very  spirit  of  the  forgiving 
God  is  working  in  our  own  hearts  towards  others. 

*"Tis  not  enough  to  weep  my  sins, 
'Tis  but  one  step  to  heaven ; 
"When  I  am  kind  to  others,  then 
I  know  myself  forgiven." 

"  He  that  revengeth  shall  find  vengeance  from 
the  Lord,  and  He  shall  surely  retain  his  sins. 
Forgive  thy  neighbor  the  hurt  that  he  hath  done 
unto  thee,  so  shall  thy  sins  also  be  forgiven  when 
thou  prayest.  A  man  beareth  hatred  against 
another,  and  doth  he  seek  pardon  from  the  Lord  ? 
He  showeth  no  mercy  to  a  man  who  is  like  him- 
self :  and  doth  he  ask  forgiveness  of  his  own  sin  ?  '* 
(Ecclesiasticus  xxviii.  1-4)  *'  If  ye  forgive  not 
men  their  trespasses  neither  will  your  heavenly 
Father  forgive  your  trespasses."  If  you  are  hard, 
unrelenting ;  always  chiding  ;  slow  to  recognize 
merit,  quick  to  observe  faults ;  admitting  no 
excuse  and  making  no  allowances ;  cherishing  ill- 
9 


I30  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

will ;  still  feeling  resentment  on  account  of  injuries 
done  you  ten  years  ago  ;  if  there  are  persons  from 
whom  you  would  if  you  could  exact  the  uttermost 
farthing — then  you  have  reason  to  fear  for  your 
own  forgiveness.  Can  you  humbly  beseech  God, 
and  with  tearful  eyes  look  up  to  Him  for  pardon 
while  you  have  your  foot  upon  your  brother's 
neck  or  your  hand  at  his  throat  ?  The  very  fact 
that  you  are  proud  and  unbending  should  itself 
convince  you  that  you  have  never  been  humbled 
before  a  forgiving  God.  The  very  fact  that  you 
can  be  overbearing  and  exacting  should  prompt 
you  to  question  most  seriously  whether  you  have 
in  very  truth  let  your  heart  be  flooded  with  God's 
undeserved  pardoning  mercy.  The  very  fact  that 
in  any  relation  of  life  you  can  carry  yourself  in 
a  haughty,  imperious,  and  unchastened  manner 
should  bid  you  ask  whether  in  very  truth  you  are 
at  heart  lowly  before  God  as  one  who  day  by  day 
needs  His  forbearance  and  pardon.  Every  bitter 
word  you  speak,  every  unmerciful,  inconsiderate 
act  you  do,  every  relentless,  cruel,  exacting 
thought  you  have,  casts  suspicion  on  your  Chris- 
tianity, and  makes  it  seem  possible  that  your 
Master  may  yet  have  to  mete  to  you  with  your 
own  measure. 

Thus  then  does  the  Lord  lay  down  the  law  of 
unlimited  forgiveness  as  a  law  of  His  kingdom. 
The  kingdom  or  society  He  came  to  form,  that 
new. grouping  and  association  of  men  which  He 


THE   UNMERCIFUL   SERVANT.  13I 

means  to  be  eternal,  cannot  be  held  together 
without  the  observance  of  this  law.  This  is  one 
of  the  essential  laws  of  His  kingdom.  Men  are 
to  be  held  together  and  to  work  smoothly  together 
not  by  external  compulsion,  not  by  a  police 
agency,  not  by  a  criminal  law  of  alarming  severity 
— it  seems  ludicrous  to  speak  of  such  forces  in 
connection  with  an  eternal  and  perfect  society — 
but  it  is  to  be  held  together  by  the  inward  dis- 
position of  each  member  of  it  to  forgive  and  be 
on  terms  of  brotherly  kindness  with  every  other 
member. 

We  lose  an  immense  deal  of  the  power  and 
practical  benefit  of  Christ's  teaching  by  refusing 
to  look  at  things  from  His  point  of  view,  and  to 
listen  as  cordially  to  what  He  says  of  His  king- 
dom as  to  what  He  says  of  individuals.  We  are 
not  perhaps  too  much  but  we  are  too  exclusively 
taken  up  with  the  saving  of  our  own  souls.  We 
neglect  to  consider  that  the  Bible  throughout 
takes  to  do  with  the  Church  and  people  of  God, 
with  the  kingdom,  and  with  the  individual  only 
as  a  member  of  the  kingdom.  It  is  not  for  the 
individual  alone  that  Christ  legislates.  He  does 
riot  point  out  a  path  by  which  one  man  by  him- 
self can  attain  to  a  solitary  bliss;  but  He  founds 
a  kingdom,  and  lays  down  as  its  fundamental 
law  the  law  of  love,  a  law  which  shows  us  that  our 
individual  happiness  and  our  individual  perfection 
can  only  be  won  in  fellowship  with  others,  and  by 


132      THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

truly  entering  into  the  most  enduring  bonds  with 
them.  To  unite  us  again  individually  to  God,  our 
Lord  recognizes  as  only  half  His  work  :  to  unite 
us  to  one  another  is  as  essential.  Salvation 
consists  not  only  In  our  being  reconciled  to  God, 
but  also  in  our  being  reconciled  to  men.  When 
we  attach  ourselves  to  Christ  we  become  members 
of  a  society,  and  can  no  longer  live  an  isolated  life. 
We  must  live  for  the  body  we  belong  to.  Until 
we  catch  this  esprit  de  corps  we  are  poor  Christians. 
The  man  who  is  content  if  he  is  sure  his  own  soul 
is  safe  has  great  cause  to  believe  it  in  danger  ;  for 
there  is  no  surer  mark  of  a  healthy  Christian  than 
his  practical  acknowledgment  of  the  claims  of 
other  men  and  his  interest  in  the  kingdom  to 
which  he  belongs. 

But  how  are  we  to  attain  to  that  thoroughly 
healthy  state  of  spirit  to  which  it  shall  be  natural 
to  forgive  until  seventy  times  seven?  This  par- 
able indicates  that  the  most  important  step  to- 
wards this  is  taken  when  we  learn  to  accept  God's 
forgiveness  in  a  right  spirit.  The  true  way  to  a 
forgiving  spirit  is  to  be  forgiven,  to  go  back  again 
and  again  to  God,  and  count  over  our  debt  to 
Him.  The  man  who  thinks  justly  of  his  own 
wTong-doing  has  no  heart  to  make  much  of  the 
injuries  done  to  himself.  He  always  feels  how 
much  more  he  has  been  forgiven  than  he  can  ever 
be  called  upon  to  forgive.  His  soul  gladdened, 
softened,    and  humbled  by  a  sense  of  the    great 


THE   UNMERCIFUL   SERVANT.  1 33 

compassion  that  has  remitted  his  great  debt,  loses 
all  power  to  be  harsh  and  damnatory. 

We  must  therefore  begin  with  the  truth  about 
ourselves.  It  is  not  required  of  us  that  we  go  out 
of  our  way  to  make  an  ostentatious  display  of  our 
guilt,  but  it  is  requisite  that  we  let  the  conviction 
of  our  great  debt  so  sink  into  our  minds  that  we 
shall  go  softly  all  the  days  of  our  life.  It  is  re- 
quired of  us  that  we  discover  and  recognize  the 
truth  about  ourselves,  and  that  we  abide  and  walk 
in  the  truth  and  not  in  the  unreal  world  of  our  own 
self-satisfied  fancy.  It  is  required  of  us  that 
we  have  a  character,  and  that  this  character  be 
founded  on  and  grow  up  out  of  God's  forgiving 
grace.  We  need  not  proclaim  to  every  man  we 
meet  the  reason,  but  we  must  let  all  men  see  that 
we  have  a  reason  for  loving-kindness,  for  humility, 
for  gravity,  for  tender  consideration  of  others,  for 
every  quality  that  banishes  hatred  from  earth 
and  welds  men  closer  into  one  community. 


LABORERS  IN  THE  VINEYARD. 

FIRST   LAST   AND    LAST   FIRST. 

Matt.  xx.  i-i6. 

The  key  to  this  parable  is  found  in  the  ques- 
tion to  which  it  was  the  answer,  and  in  the  cir- 
cumstances which  suggested  that  question.  A 
young  man  of  high  character  and  still  higher  as- 
pirations, but  of  unfortunately  great  wealth,  had 
recognized  in  Jesus  a  teacher  who  in  His  own 
person  and  demeanor  bore  evidence  that  He 
understood  how  man  could  attain  to  the  highest 
ideal.  He  accordingly  introduced  himself  to  our 
Lord  as  one  who  was  bent  upon  achieving  the 
highest  human  attainment,  and  who  was  only 
anxious  to  know  what  more  could  be  done  beyond 
what  he  had  already  accomplished.  But  on  learn- 
ing that  for  him  the  path  to  perfection  lay 
through  the  abandonment  of  his  great  posses- 
sions, he  felt  that  this  was  more  than  he  could 
do,  and  turned  away  ashamed  and  wretched.  As 
he  passed  out  of  sight,  our  Lord,  sympathizing 
with  the  severity  of  his  temptation,  turned  to 
His  disciples,  and  with  His  usual  form  of  strong 
asseveration,  said,  *'  Verily  I  say  unto  you,  that  a 
134 


LABORERS   IN   THE   VINEYARD.  1 35 

rich  man  shall  hardly  enter  into  the  kingdom  of 
heaven." 

When  Peter  saw  how  keenly  the  Lord  appre- 
ciated the  difficulty  of  giving  up  property  and 
detaching  oneself  from  familiar  comforts  and 
employments,  he  suggested  that  those  who  over- 
came this  difficulty  were  peculiarly  meritorious. 
''Behold,"  he  says,  ''we  have  forsaken  all  and 
followed  Thee  :  what  shall  we  have  therefore  ?  " 
But  in  asking  this  question  Peter  betrayed  pre- 
cisely that  disposition  which  most  thoroughly 
vitiates  all  service  of  Christ,  the  disposition  to 
bargain,  to  work  for  a  clearly  defined  reward  and 
not  for  the  sake  of  the  work  itself  and  in  gen- 
erous trust  in  the  justice  and  liberality  of  the 
Master.  Peter  had  to  all  appearance  made,  so  far 
as  was  possible  in  his  circumstances,  the  very 
sacrifice  which  the  rich  young  man  had  declined 
to  make  ;  but  if  a  sacrifice  is  made  merely  for  the 
sake  of  winning  for  oneself  some  greater  gain, 
then  it  is  no  longer  a  sacrifice  but  a  bargain. 
Love  and  trust  are  of  the  essence  of  sacrifice. 
Peter  had  left  his  home,  his  boat  and  fishing  gear, 
and  all  the  pleasant  associations  of  the  lake  :  he 
had  torn  himself  up  by  the  roots;  but  if  he  had 
done  so  not  from  simple  love  of  Christ  which 
found  its  ample  reward  in  His  company,  but  with 
a  clear  understanding  that  he  would  have  a  good 
return  in  kind  for  all  he  had  given  up,  then  he 
was  perhaps  premature  in  so  complacently  com- 


136  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

paring  himself  with  the  rich  young  man.  It  is 
the  motive  which  gives  virtue  to  any  sacrifice  or 
service.  The  spirit  which  asks  what  compensa- 
tion is  to  be  made  for  every  sacrifice,  is  self-regard- 
ing, mercenary,  greedy,  not  generous,  trustful, 
loving:  it  confounds  two  things  diametrically 
different,  bargain  and  sacrifice. 

The  Lord's  answer  to  Peter's  question  is  two- 
fold. He  first  assures  His  followers  that  they 
shall  have  ample  compensation  for  all  present  loss. 
Sharing  with  Him  in  work,  they  shall  share  in  His 
reward.  The  results  He  works  for  shall  be  theirs 
as  well  as  His.  But  having  given  them  this  assur- 
ance. He  takes  occasion  to  rebuke  the  disposition 
to  bargain,  the  somewhat  craven  spirit  that  sought 
to  be  quite  sure  it  would  take  no  harm  by  follow- 
ing Him.  And  he  warns  them  against  compar- 
ing their  sacrifices  and  services  with  those  of  other 
men,  afifirming  that  many  who,  like  the  apostles, 
were  called  at  the  very  beginning  of  the  Lord's 
ministry,  and  were  first  not  only  in  point  of  time, 
but  in  eminence  of  service,  and  who  might  there- 
fore seem  sure  of  a  conspicuous  and  exceptional 
reward,  will  after  all  be  found  no  better  off  than 
those  whose  expectations  have  been  extremely 
meager.  "  Many  shall  be  last  that  are  first,  and 
first  that  are  last." 

It  was  to  illustrate  this  statement  that  the  para- 
ble of  the  laborers  in  the  vineyard  was  spoken. 
This  is  the  point  of  its  teaching  to  which  all  else 


LABORERS   IN   THE   VINEYARD.  137 

is  subordinate.  The  nature  of  the  work  in  the 
vineyard  and  its  exhausting  toil ;  the  unwearied 
compassion  of  the  Lord  of  the  vineyard,  going 
out  hour  after  hour  to  invite  the  unemployed  ; 
these  and  all  other  details  are  but  the  feathers  of 
the  arrow  helping  it  to  fly  straight  to  its  mark  ; 
but  the  point  is,  that  those  who  were  first  hired 
were  last  paid  and  least  paid,  and  this  because 
the  first-hired  entered  on  their  work  in  a  bargain- 
ing spirit  and  merely  for  the  sake  of  winning  a  cal- 
culated and  stipulated  remuneration,  whereas  the 
late-hired  laborers  did  their  work  in  faith,  not 
knowing  what  they  were  to  get,  but  sure  they 
would  not  get  less  than  they  deserved. 

The  parable,  then,  is  intended  to  show  us  the 
difference  between  work  done  in  a  bargaining 
spirit  and  work  done  in  trust ;  between  the  reward 
given  to  work  which  in  quantity  may  be  very 
great  but  in  motive  is  mercenary,  and  the  reward 
given  to  work  which  in  quantity  may  be  very  small, 
but  in  motive  is  sound.  It  directs  attention  to  the 
fact  that  in  estimating  the  value  of  work  we  must 
take  into  consideration  not  only  the  amount  done 
or  the  time  spent  upon  it,  but  the  motive  that 
has  entered  into  it.  It  is  this  which  God  chief!}'' 
regards.  One  hour  of  trustful,  humble  service  is 
of  greater  value  to  God  than  a  lifetime  of  calcu- 
lating industry  and  self-regarding  zeal.  A  gift  that 
is  reckoned  by  thousands  of  pounds  ;  an  ecclesias- 
tical endowment  that  makes  a  noise  through  a 


138  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

whole  generation  ;  a  busy,  unflagging,  obtrusive 
zeal  which  makes  itself  seen  and  felt  throughout 
a  whole  land,  these  things  make  a  great  impres- 
sion upon  men — and  it  is  well  if  they  do  not  make 
a  great  impression  on  the  parties  themselves  who 
do  them  and  prompt  them  inwardly  to  say,  *'  What 
shall  we  have  therefor  " — but  they  make  no  im.- 
pression  upon  God  unless  animated  by  a  really 
devoted  spirit.  While  men  are  applauding  the 
great  workers  who  ostentatiously  wipe  the  sweat 
from  their  brows  and  pant  so  that  you  can  hear 
them  across  the  whole  field,  God  is  regarding  an 
unnoticed  worker,  who  feels  he  is  doing  little, 
who  is  ashamed  that  any  one  should  see  his  work, 
who  bitterly  regrets  he  can  do  no  more,  who  could 
not  name  a  coin  small  enough  to  pay  him,  but 
who  is  perfectly  sure  that  the  Master  he  serves  is 
v/ell  worth  serving.  It  is  thus  that  the  first  be- 
come last  and  the  last  first. 

That  we  are  meant  to  see  this  difference  of 
spirit  in  the  laborers  is  obvious  alike  from  the 
terms  of  their  respective  engagements,  from  the 
distribution  of  the  wages,  and  from  the  temper 
shown  by  the  last  paid  men. 

I.  First,  the  parable  is  careful  to  state  that 
those  who  were  hired  early  in  the  day  made  an 
agreement  to  work  for  a  stipulated  sum.  This 
sum  was  the  usual  day's  wage  of  the  period  :  a 
fair  wage,  which  of  itself  was  sufficient  induce- 
ment to  work.     These  men  were  in  a  condition 


LABORERS   IN   THE  VINEYARD.  1 39 

to  make  their  own  terms.  They  ruled  the  market. 
At  four  or  five  in  the  morning  the  laborers  in  a 
hiring  market  have  a  keen  sense  of  their  own 
value,  and  are  in  no  mood  to  sell  themselves  cheap. 
The  masters  and  stewards  have  a  very  hard  time 
of  it  as  they  are  hooted  from  knot  to  knot  of  lusty 
fellows  with  the  pride  of  the  morning  in  their 
faces,  and  strive  in  vain  to  pick  up  labor  at  a 
reasonable  figure.  No  man  in  the  market  at  that 
hour  engages  without  making  his  own  terms,  with- 
out saying  what  So-and-so  offers,  without  know- 
ing to  a  halfpenny  what  he  will  have,  and  strik- 
ing hands  with  his  hirer  as  his  equal.  The  laborer 
means  to  make  a  good  thing  of  it  for  himself ;  if 
he  does  not  like  the  look  of  one  steward  he  chooses 
another,  if  he  thinks  one  master's  pay  too  little 
he  waits  for  a  better  offer.  He  is  not  going  to 
work  all  day  to  oblige  some  neighboring  proprietor, 
he  is  going  to  work  to  make  a  good  wage  for  him- 
self.    It's  hot,  hard,  thirsty  work,  but  it  pays. 

But  in  the  evening  the  tables  are  turned.  The 
masters  now  have  it  all  their  own  way.  It's  no 
longer,  ''Will  you  give  us  more  than  So-and-so  ? 
what  will  you  offer?  "  but  "We'll  leave  that  to 
you,  sir  ;  supper  and  a  bed  at  the  most  is  all  we 
can  expect.  There's  scarcely  time  to  get  to  your 
place,  but  we'll  hurry  and  do  our  best,  if  you'll 
have  us  at  all."  Possibly  these  men  were  the 
proudest  in  the  morning,  and  missed  their  chance. 
Group  after  group  of  men  has  been  detailed  off 


140  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

at  various  hours,  and  now  the  shadows  begin  to 
lengthen  ;  their  pride  gives  place  to  hunger  and 
anxious  thoughts  of  the  coming  night.  They  are 
beginning  to  have  gloomy  thoughts  of  lying  down 
in  the  darkness,  with  no  food  to  refresh  them,  no 
roof  to  shelter,  no  promise  of  more  work  from  an 
appreciative  master,  no  pleasant  talk  and  song 
with  their  comrades  in  the  vintage.  But  as  the 
day  wears  desolately  away,  and  as  now  the  hard 
task-masters  are  heard  on  all  sides  beating  down 
the  wages  of  the  jaded  hirelings,  there  rises  the 
considerate  voice  of  this  good  and  upright  house- 
i  holder,  "  Go  ye  also  into  my  vineyard,  and  what- 
i  soever  is  rights  that  shall  ye  receive."  In  no  con- 
dition to  make  a  bargain,  they  most  gladly  trust 
themselves  to  one  whose  words  have  the  ring  of 
truth.  They  go,  glad  to  get  work  on  any  terms; 
they  go,  not  knowing  what  they  are  to  get,  but 
quite  sure  they  are  in  good  hands.  They  go 
humble,  trusting,  and  grateful;  the  others  went 
proud,  self-confident,  mercenary. 

2.  Secondly,  the  same  difference  in  the  spirit 
in  which  each  set  of  laborers  had  entered  on 
their  work  is  implied  in  the  striking  scene  which 
ensued  at  the  close  of  the  day.  Those  who  had 
barely  got  their  work  begun  wqvq  first  paid,  and 
were  paid  a  full  day's  wage.  There  must,  of 
course,  have  been  a  reason  for  this  ;  it  was  not 
mere  caprice,  but  was  the  result  and  expression 
of  some  just   idea.     It   could  not  be  that  these 


LABORERS   IN   THE   VINEYARD.  I41 

late-hlred  laborers  had  done  as  much  in  their 
one  hour  as  the  others  in  twelve ;  for  the  others, 
those  who  had  worked  the  full  day,  are  con- 
scious of  having  done  their  work  well.  No  hint  is 
given  that  they  were  less  skilful  or  less  zealous 
than  the  late-hired  men.  We  are  thrown  back, 
therefore,  for  the  explanation  on  the  hint  given 
in  the  hiring,  namely,  that  those  who  wrought 
merely  for  the  sake  of  pay  received  the  pay  they 
looked  for,  while  they  who  came  to  the  vine- 
yard conscious  that  they  had  wasted  their  day 
and  not  daring  to  stipulate  for  any  definite  wage, 
but  leaving  themselves  confidently  in  the  hands 
of  a  master  they  believed  in,  were  gladdened  by 
the  unmerited  reward  of  the  fullest  wage.  The 
men  who  bargained  were  paid  according  to  their 
bargain ;  the  men  who  trusted  got  far  more  than 
they  could  have  dared  to  bargain  for. 

The  principle  is  more  easily  understood  be- 
cause we  ourselves  so  commonly  act  upon  it. 
The  man  who  bargains  and  must  have  everything 
in  black  and  white,  and  thus  shows  that  in  work- 
ing for  you  it  is  himself  he  is  looking  after  and 
seeking  to  profit,  gets  every  penny  he  bargained 
for,  but  not  a  penny  beyond  ;  whereas  the  man 
who  fears  his  work  may  not  please  you,  but,  if 
you  wish  it,  will  try  and  do  his  best,  and  says  not 
a  word  about  pay — to  this  man  you  give  as  much 
as  you  decently  can,  and  always  more  than  he  is 
expecting.     What  you    rehsh  and   reward,   God 


142  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD.  > 

also  relishes  and  rewards.  It  is  work  done  with 
some  human  feeling  in  it  that  you  delight  in. 
What  you  give  out  to  be  done  at  a  certain  rate 
you  accept  and  pay  for,  but  take  no  heed  of  him 
who  does  it.  There  is  nothing  personal  between 
you.  He  does  not  work  for  you,  but  for  his 
wage.  His  work  may  be  most  important  and 
thoroughly  well  done,  it  may  bear  the  mark  of 
time  and  toil  upon  it,  but  it  is  the  work  of  a  hire- 
ling with  whom  you  are  quits  when  you  pay  him 
what  he  contracted  to  receive. 

3.  Thirdly,  the  same  difference  of  spirit  among 
the  laborers  is  brought  out  in  the  envious  and 
grudging  temper  of  the  first  hired  and  last  paid 
men.  Peter  must  have  felt  himself  gravely  re- 
buked by  the  picture  here  drawn  of  the  man  who 
had  listened  to  the  first  call  of  Christ,  but  who, 
after  a  full,  honest  day's  work,  was  found  to  be 
possessed  of  a  selfish,  grudging  spirit  that  filled 
him  with  discontent  and  envy.  It  was  now  plain 
that  this  early-hired  laborer  had  little  interest 
in  the  work,  and  that  it  was  no  satisfaction  to 
him  to  have  been  able  to  do  twelve  times  as  much 
as  the  last-hired  laborer.  He  had  the  hireling's 
spirit,  and  had  been  longing  for  the  shadow  and 
counting  his  wages  all  day  long.  English  sailors 
have  been  known  to  be  filled  with  pity  for  their 
comrades  whose  ships  only  hove  in  sight  in  time 
to  see  the  enemy's  flag  run  down,  or  to  fire  the 
last  shot  in  a  long  day's  engagement.     They  have 


LABORERS   IN   THE   VINEYARD.  I43 

SO  pitied  them  for  having  no  share  in  the  excite- 
ment and  glory  of  the  day  that  they  would  will- 
ingly give  them  as  a  compensation  their  own  pay 
and  prize-money.  And  the  true  follower  of 
Christ,  who  has  listened  to  the  earliest  call  of 
his  Master  and  has  reveled  in  the  glory  of  serv- 
ing Him  throughout  life,  will  from  the  bottom  of 
his  heart  pity  the  man  who  has  only  late  in  life 
recognized  the  glory  of  the  service,  and  has 
had  barely  time  to  pick  up  his  tools  when  the 
dusk  of  evening  falls  upon  him.  It  is  impossible 
that  a  man  whose  chief  desire  was  to  advance  his 
Master's  work,  should  envy  another  laborer  who 
had  done  much  less  than  himself.  The  very  fact 
that  a  man  envies  another  his  reward  is  enough 
of  itself  to  convict  him  of  self-seeking  in  his 
service. 

The  difference  in  the  spirit  of  the  workers 
which  is  thus  brought  out  in  the  parable  will  be 
found,  says  our  Lord,  in  the  Church,  and  it  will 
be  attended  with  like  results  at  the  time  of  judg- 
ment and  award.  Here  also  "  many  that  are  first 
shall  be  last,"  not  all,  but  many  ;  so  commonly 
will  this  be  exemplified  that  there  must  be  some- 
thing in  the  nature  of  the  case  inducing  it.  Many 
who  have  done  the  largest  works  shall  receive 
the  smallest  reward.  Many  first  in  man's  esteem 
shall  be  last  in  God's  reckoning.  Many  who  have 
borne  the  burden  and  heat  of  the  day,  who  have 
been  conspicuous  in  the  work  of  the  church,  whose 


144     THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

names  are  identified  with  certain  charities  or 
philanthropic  institutions  will  be  rated  below 
j  obscure  individuals  who  have  almost  no  work  at 
*  all  to  point  to.  Many  who  have  served  longest 
in  the  Lord's  vineyard  have  a  consciousness  that 
they  are  the  great  workers,  which  likens  them  to 
the  self-complacent  Peter  rather  than  to  the  hum- 
ble, trustful,  self-ignoring  spirit  of  the  late-hired 
laborers.  So,  many  who  are  most  forward  in 
the  work  of  the  Church  and  of  the  world  are 
plainly  animated  by  motives  Avhich  are  not  above 
suspicion,  that  nothing  is  more  obvious  or  more 
commonly  remarked  upon  than  that  '*  many 
are  called  but  few  chosen."  Many  make  trial 
of  the  work,  and  labor  vigorously  in  it,  but 
few  have  the  purity  of  motive  which  gives  them 
an  abiding  place,  and  wins  the  approval  of 
Christ.  And  they  especially  are  tempted  to  fault- 
iness  of  motive  who  are  first  in  work  ;  they  are 
impressed  with  their  own  consequence  ;  they  find 
it  difficult  to  avoid  inwardly  comparing  them- 
selves with  those  who  waste  their  day  ;  and  more- 
over, many  of  those  who  live  outwardly  blame- 
less and  correct  lives,  and  who  abound  in  practi- 
cal work,  do  so  because  they  are  originally  of  a 
calculating  disposition. 

But  though  many  of  the  first,  yet  not  all  of  them 
shall  be  last.  This  also  we  know  to  be  true. 
Some  at  least  of  the  best  known  workers  in  the 
vineyard,  some  who  entered  it  early  and  never 


LABORERS   IN  THE  VINEYARD.  I4§ 

left  it  for  an  hour,  some  who  scarcely  once  straight- 
ened their  backs  from  toil,  and  dropped  asleep  as 
they  came  to  the  end  of  their  task,  knowing  noth- 
ing but  God's  work  their  whole  life  through,  have 
also  wrought  in  no  bargaining  spirit,  but  passed 
as  humble  a  judgment  on  their  work  as  the  last 
and  least  and  lowest  of  their  fellow-laborers  on 
theirs.  It  is  a  thing  that  recalls  the  mind  from 
thinking  cynically  and  contemptuously  of  human 
nature  to  find  how  often  the  highest  faculty,  the 
most  conspicuous  and  helpful  gifts  are  used  with 
absolute  humility  and  lowliness,  with  scarcely  one 
conscious  thought  that  great  good  is  being  done. 
Happily  there  are  some  first  who  shall  remain  first ; 
first  at  their  work,  and  foremost  in  it ;  first  in  the 
field  for  amount  and  quality  of  work  done,  and 
yet  first  also  in  reward,  because  first  in  unaffected 
forgetfulness  of  self  and  pure  devotedness  to  their 
Master's  interests,  and  to  the  work  itself.  As 
it  is  often  the  man  who  is  first  in  the  breach  who 
least  understands  why  men  should  praise  him  for 
courage,  he  himself  having  had  no  thought  of 
danger  ;  as  the  charitable  man  who  has  helped 
countless  miserable  creatures  and  made  sacrifices 
which  could  not  be  hid,  is  distressed  when  his 
friends  speak  of  making  public  recognition  of  his 
charity,  so  some  who  have  most  materially  ad- 
vanced the  cause  of  Christ  and  of  humanity  are 
precisely  those  who  think  most  shamefacedly  of 

what   they   have  done,   and   are   unfeignedly  as-^ 
lo 


146  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

tonished  to  hear  they  have  been  of  any  service, 
and  cannot  once  connect  the  idea  of  reward  with 
any  toil  they  have  undergone. 

Again,  as  there  are  some  first  who  remain  first, 
so  there  are  some  last  who  remain  last.  Not  all 
who  enter  the  vineyard  late  enter  it  humbled. 
Not  all  who  do  little  do  it  well.  Mercenariness 
is  not  confined  to  those  who  have  some  small 
excuse  for  it.  Even  those  who  have  wasted  their 
life,  and  bring  but  the  wreck  of  it  into  the  king- 
dom, are  sometimes  possessed  with  a  complacency 
and  shamelessness  that  are  astonishing  to  those 
who  know  their  past  history.  To  come  to  Christ 
late,  and  to  come  unhumbled,  is  the  culminating 
exhibition  of  human  complacency.  To  bring  to 
the  vineyard  neither  strength  to  labor  nor  purity 
of  motive  is  the  extreme  of  unprofitableness. 

This  parable,  rightly  read,  gives  no  encourage- 
ment to  late  entrance  into  the  Lord's  service. 
To  think  of  this  service  as  that  which  we  can 
add  at  any  convenient  time  to  the  other  work  of 
life  is  to  mistake  it  altogether.  The  service  of 
Christ  should  cover  the  whole  of  life  ;  and  what 
is  not  done  as  a  part  of  His  work  may  in  some 
respects  as  well  not  be  done  at  all.  All  outside 
His  vineyard  is  idleness.  You  may  be  busily, 
painfully  engrossed  in  worldly  business,  and  yet 
absolutely  idle  as  to  what  conscience  persistently 
reminds  you  is  the  one  thing  needful.  Your  life 
may  be  far  through,  as  years  go,  but  the  main 


LABORERS   IN   THE   VINEYARD.  I47 

business    of  it   not  yet  begun :    your  prospects 
always  improving,  yourselves  no  better  than  when 
you  began.     If  there  are  those   among   you  who 
feel  this  painfully   enough,   who   keenly   feel  the 
vanity  of  life,  who   have  tasted  its  distresses  and 
disappointments,  who  know  how  little  it  all  comes 
to,  a  few  pleasures,  a  few  excitements,  one  or  two 
great  changes,  a  great  deal  of   dull  labor,  and  a 
good  many   sorrows,  and   then  the  plunge  into 
oblivion  ;  if  there  are  those  who   would  welcome 
anything  that  would  put   a  heart  and  a  purpose 
into  the  whole,  and  lift  every   part  of  life  up  out 
of  the  low  and  despicable  rut   in  which  it  for  the 
most  part  moves,   then  why   do  you   hesitate  to 
respond  when  Christ  says,  "  Why  stand  ye  here 
all  the  day  idle?     Go  ye  into  My  vineyard,  and 
what  is  right  ye   shall   receive  ?  "     Do   you  not 
believe  Him  ?     Do  you  fancy  that  He  will  suffer 
you  to  spend  yourself  in  what  is  despicable,  and 
fruitless,  and  disappointing  ?      Why  waste  your 
day?     Why  waste  another  hour  of  it,   if  there  is 
real  work  to  be  done,  if  there  is  work  of  such  im- 
portance to  be  done  that  He  Himself  left  heaven 
to  do  it,  if  there  is  work  to  be  done  that  the  world 
needs,  that  men  will  be  the  better  for,  if  there  is 
the  least  opening  for  you  to    put  your  hand  to 
what  will  stand  God's  inspection,  why  go  on  idling 
and   frittering   your  one    precious  life  away  on 
what  you  yourself  despise  and  are  weary  of  ? 
Let  us  then  examine  ourselves  in  the  light  of 


148  THE   PARABLES  OF   OUR   LORD. 

this  parable.  Our  Lord  pointedly  invites  us  to 
work  for  Him,  to  live  for  Him,  and  to  do  so  in 
the  assurance  that  whatsover  is  right  He  will  give. 
These  laborers  who  went  in  faith  got  more  than 
the  men  who  had  made  what  they  considered  a 
good  bargain.  In  other  words,  you  are  as  sure  to 
be  rewarded  for  every  hour  you  spend  in  Christ's 
service  as  if  you  had  His  written  bond  and  had 
made  your  own  terms.  If  you  had  considered 
what  you  would  like  in  return  for  anything  you 
do  for  Him,  and  if  you  had  stipulated  for  this, 
you  would  not  thus  have  so  much  as  you  are  sure 
to  have  by  simply  leaving  it  to  Him.  We  need 
not  concern  ourselves  about  the  future  :  we  need 
not  be  mentally  counting  our  wages;  He  would 
have  us  fall  in  love  with  the  service,  so  that  even 
though  there  were  to  be  no  reward  at  all,  we 
should  still  choose  it  as  the  most  honorable,  the 
most  useful,  the  most  joyful  way  of  spending  our 
life,  indeed  as  the  one  service  which  is  perfect 
freedom,  and  satisfies  our  idea  of  what  life  should 
be.  The  slow,  hesitating,  suspicious  person  that 
thinks  Christ  wants  to  use  him  for  some  ends  that 
are  not  the  proper  ends  of  human  life,  the  foolish 
person  that  always  feels  as  if  Christ  did  not  un- 
derstand what  it  is  that  gives  the  truest  relish  to 
human  life — such  persons  are  not  the  laborers 
He  desires.  The  bargaining  spirit  gets  what  it 
bargains  for,  but  also  gets  His  rebuke  :  the  spirit 
that  is   too  broken  to  bargain,  too  crushed  and 


LABORERS  IN  THE  VINEYARD,  I49 

self-diffident  to  make  terms,  but  can  only  go  and 
work  and  trust,  gets  a  reward  that  carries  in  it  the 
hearty  approval  and  encouragement  of  the  Lord. 
Are  you  then  in  His  vineyard  at  all,  or  are  you 
still  among  the  unhappy  ones  who  cannot  decide, 
or  among  those  who  have  looked  at  the  vineyard 
in  the  distance,  and  have  fallen  asleep  in  the 
market-place  and  are  dreaming  they  are  in  it  ?  or 
are  you  among  those  who  eagerly  watch  for  the 
reappearance  of  the  Master,  and  as  soon  as  He 
turns  the  corner  of  the  street  offer  themselves  to 
Him  ?  He  calls  you  now  ;  He  calls  you  every 
hour  of  the  day.  And  if  already  in  His  service, 
are  we  among  those  who  wish  to  know  what  they 
are  to  get  or  make  by  it  ?  or  do  we  leave  all  that 
to  Him  and  enter  His  work  because  we  are  weary 
of  idleness  and  sick  at  heart  with  hope  deferred, 
or  sore  with  the  ill-usage  we  have  received  from 
other  masters  ? 

None  of  us,  surely,  dare  push  this  parable  aside 
and  pass  on  into  life  without  satisfying  our  con- 
science about  this  matter.  Many  of  us  are  called. 
Many  of  us  are  in  the  vineyard,  and  have  long 
been  in  it.  We  have  borne,  in  a  mild  fashion, 
the  burden  and  heat  of  the  day.  We  have  given 
money  ;  we  have  spent  a  great  deal  of  time  ;  we 
have  performed  a  number  of  worrying  duties. 
And  we  mean  to  go  on.  Well,  in  what  spirit 
have  we  labored  ?  Has  it  been  to  earn  or  main- 
tain a  reputation,  or  to  make  our  influence  felt  ? 


150  THE    PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD.  « 

Has  it  been  under  a  dim  impression  that  such 
works  and  sacrifices  are  necessary  in  those  who 
claim  to  be  Christians  ?  Have  you  rendered  them 
as  a  kind  of  payment  to  enable  you  to  maintain 
the  feeling  that  you  are  Christ's  people  ?  Have 
you  striven  to  help  others  mainly  for  the  sake  of 
doing  yourself  good,  of  helping  out  your  own 
salvation,  and  keeping  your  own  hands  clean  ? 
Has  your  object  been  advantage  to  yourself, 
either  future  or  present,  spiritual  or  worldly  ?  If 
so,  you  will  have  your  penny,  but  the  cordial  ap- 
proval of  your  master  goes  to  others.  You  may 
say,  Is  it  not  right  to  aim  at  our  own  salvation,  and 
do  those  good  works  which  are  needful  for  that 
purpose?  Certainly  it  is  right  to  save  yourself, 
but  it  is  better  to  save  ten  other  people.  It  is  he 
who  loses  sight  of  his  own  interests  and  forgets 
himself  because  he  is  so  much  taken  up  with  the 
common  work  and  the  common  good  that  finds 
he  has  won  the  highest  reward. 

Look,  then,  to  your  motives.  See  that  it  be 
pure  love  of  the  work  and  love  of  the  Master  that 
draw  you  to  it.  Actions  are  always  within  our 
own  power.  Hard  work  is  always  possible,  and 
great  sacrifices  almost  any  man  can  make.  It  is 
the  motive  that  is  unattainable  save  by  those 
whom  Christ  Himself  has  renewed. 


THE  TWO  SONS. 

Matt.  xxi.  28,  32. 

The  three  parables  of  which  this  is  the  first 
were  s£oken  at  one  time,  and  that  the  most  crit- 
ical o^f  ^ur  Lord's  life.  He  had  come  to  Jeru- 
salem knowing  the  danger  of  doing  so,  but  also 
persuaded  that  it  was  now  high  time  to  bring 
matters  to  an  issue.  He  saw  that  things  were  now 
ripe  for  a  public  manifestation  of  Himself  as  the 
Christ.  A  career  of  obscure  philanthropy  in 
Galilee  could  no  longer  be  pursued.  The  time 
was  past  for  His  laying  His  hand  on  the  mouth 
of  those  who  would  have  published  His  majesty 
and  proclaimed  their  conviction  that  He  was  the 
Son  of  God.  He  goes  to  Jerusalem,  that  in  the 
temple  itself  and  before  the  chief  priests  and 
constituted  authorities,  He  may  again  proclaim 
His  own  dignity,  and  be  explicitly  and  finally 
received  or  rejected.  Accordingly  He  makes  it 
impossible  for  the  authorities  any  longer  to  over- 
look His  actions.  They  are  compelled  by  the 
growing  excitement  of  the  people  to  appoint  a 
deputation  of  their  best  men  to  wait  upon  Him. 
This  deputation  challenge  His  right  to  teach  in 

151 


152  THE    PARABLES   OF  OUR  LORD. 

this  unlicensed  way,  and  put  to  Him  the  testing 
question,  '*  By  what  authority  doest  thou  these 
things,"  no  doubt  with  the  expectation  that  He 
would  claim  Divine  authority,  and  so  give  them 
a  handle  against  Him.  But  our  Lord  declines  to 
give  any  account  of  His  authority  further  than 
what  was  manifest  in  His  words  and  deeds  them- 
selves. If  they  could  not  see  divine  authority  in 
the  things  themselves,  if  they  did  not  feel  that  in 
His  presence  they  were  in  the  presence  of  God, 
they  were  not  likely  to  see  or  to  feel  the  Divine 
presence  merely  because  He  said  it  was  there. 

It  is  astonishing  with  what  persistency  numbers 
of  persons  continue  to  make  the  demand  of  these 
priests,  and  put  themselves  in  the  condition  our 
Lord  condemns.  They  will  not  accept  a  thing 
as  Divine  because  it  has  the  attributes  of  Divinity 
attaching  to  it,  but  they  ask  for  further  evidence. 
They  will  not  accept  a  teacher  as  inspired,  because 
of  the  truth  he  utters,  but  ask  for  an  authority 
external  to  himself,  and  over  and  above  his 
teaching,  which  shall  guarantee  it  to  them.  They 
will  not  bow  before  Christ  Himself,  because  their 
whole  nature  finds  in  Him  the  highest  and  best 
they  know  ;  but,  like  these  ignorantly  dishonest 
priests,  they  ask  for  His  authority.  They  ask  for 
a  guarantee  outside  of  Himself  which  shall  war- 
rant them  in  trusting  Him,  as  if  there  could  be 
any  possible  guarantee  so  perfect  as  the  actual 
moral  supremacy  they  feel  Him  to  possess.     That 


THE   TWO   SONS.  I  53 

man's  faith  is  resting  on  a  very  precarious  foun- 
dation who^believes  not  because  the  truth  itself 
has  laid  hold  upon  his  conscience,  but  because  he 
is  yielding  to  authority  ;  who  accepts  Christ,  not 
because  he  finds  in  Christ  the  true  Lord  of  His 
spirit,  but  because  the  claims  of  Christ  are  estab- 
lished by  what  is  external  to  His  person. 

Jesus,  however,  is  not  content  merely  to  evade 
their  entangling  question.  He  turns  their  assault  | 
against  themselves,  and  so  leads  the  conversation 
that  they  are  compelled  to  utter  their  own  con-  •• 
demnation  in  presence  of  the  multitude.  The 
parable  is  too  plain-spoken  to  be  evaded.  They 
cannot  deny  that  the  satisfactory  Son  is  not  the 
one  who  professes  great  respect  for  His  father's 
authority,  while  he  does  only  what  pleases  him- 
self, but  the  one  who  does  his  father's  bidding, 
even  though  he  has  at  first  disowned  His  author- 
ity. They  are  compelled,  that  is,  to  own  that  a 
mere  bowing  to  God's  authority  and  professing 
that  they  attach  great  weight  to  it  is  of  no  ac- 
count in  God's  sight  unless  it  be  accompanied  by 
aiTactual  doing  of  the  things  He  enjoins.  John 
came  to  you,  our  Lord  says  to  the  priests  and 
elders,  in  the  way  of  righteousness,  enjoining  the 
works  that  belong  to  the  kingdom  of  God,  setting 
clear  before  your  conscience  the  duties  actually 
incumbent  on  you.  You  felt  he  was  God's  mes- 
senger, the  words  he  spoke  proved  him  to  be  so  ; 
the  holy  conduct  he  enforced  compelled  you  in- 


154  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

wardly  to  own  him  a  messenger  of  God  to  you 
you  dare  not  now  in  the  presence  of  these  people 
deny  that  he  was  from  God.  Why  then  did  you 
not  do  his  bidding  ?  He  was  God's  messenger,  he 
told  you  plainly  who  the  Christ  was,  and  yet  you 
believed  him  not.  You  refused  to  work  the  work 
of  God  peculiar  to  your  time  and  ofifice,  the  work 
of  acknowledging  and  believing  in  the  Son  of 
God,  witnessed  by  John  whom  ye  yourselves 
know  to  be  a  true  witness.  You  come  now  and 
ask  Me  for  my  authority  as  if,  were  you  convinced 
it  was  Divine,  you  would  gladly  yield  to  it  ;  as  if 
you  were  anxious  to  know  God's  will,  as  if  there 
were  on  your  lips  constantly  the  "  I  go,  sir,"  of 
this  Son,  whereas  already  it  has  been  made  clear 
to  your  own  conscience  what  God  would  havej^ou 
do  regarding  Me,  and  yet  you  obey  Him  not. 
These  publicans  and  harlots  whom  you  despise 
and  loathe  are  in  the  kingdom  of  God  while  you 
are  outside  ;  for  bad  as  they  were  and  daringly  as 
they  had  disowned  God's  authority,  and  little 
profession  of  belief  in  God  as  they  made,  they 
yet  repented  when  John  proclaimed  the  coming 
kingdom,  and  have  believed  in  and  submitted  to 
the  King. 

These  men  were  thus  unceremoniously  dealt 
with  by  our  Lord  because  they  were  false.  They 
may  not  have  clearly  seen  that  they  were  false, 
but  they  were  so.  They  were  false  because  they 
professed  to  be  anxious  for  additional  evidence 


THE   TWO    SONS.  1 55 

regarding  Christ,  while  already  they  had  sufficient 
evidence.  They  were  resisting  the  light  already 
shed  into  their  conscience,  and  yet  professed  a 
desire  for  further  light.  And  probably  in  no  age 
of  the  world's  history  have  there  been  so  many  in 
their  state  of  mind  as  in  our  own.  There  is  a  very 
general  misapprehension  as  to  the  amount  and 
kind  of  evidence  that  may  reasonably  be  de- 
manded in  favor  of  Christ's  claims,  and  also  as 
to  the  manner  in  which  the  evidence  may  be  ex- 
pected to  find  entrance  into  the  mind  and  produce 
conviction.  And  it  is  certain  that  unless  we  use 
the  light  we  have  and  follow  it,  we  are  not  likely 
toj;each  fuller  light.  If  we  are  at  present  sure 
that  at  any  rate  the  moral  teaching  of  Christ  is 
healthy,  let  us  practise  that  teaching ;  for,  if  we 
do  not,  we  reject  the  aid  which  more  than  any 
other  is  likely  to  bring  us  to  Christ's  own  point 
of  view,  and  to  open  our  sympathies  with  His 
purpose  and  to  enlighten  us  regarding  His  whole 
position. 

The  application  of  the  parable,  then,  to  those 
to  whom  our  Lord  was  speaking  could  not  be 
misunderstood.  The  first  son — the  man  who  at 
first  said  he  would  not  go  but  afterwards  repented 
and  went — was  the  representative  of  the  pub- 
licans and  harlots.  They  had  openly  asserted 
their  unwillingness  to  work  for  God  :  they  had 
made  no  professions  of  obedience,  they  had  de- 
cidedly turned   their  backs  on  everything  good. 


156  THE   PARABLES  OF  OUR   LORD. 

They  had  lived  in  open  sin, and  were  not  surprised 
that  men  should  denounce  them  as  hopelessly 
corrupt.  The  lad  that  plainly  told  his  father  he 
was  not  going  to  the  vineyard  but  meant  to  have 
a  holiday  with  his  boon  companions  would  not 
have  been  more  astonished  to  he  called  a  dutiful 
and  obedient  son,  than  these  publicans  and  har- 
lots would  have  been  had  any  one  addressed  them 
as  good  and  godly  people.  They  knew  they 
were  doing  wrong :  they  were  conscious  of  their 
wickedness.  But  John's  preaching  went  to  their 
hearts,  because  he  assured  them  that  even  for 
them  there  was  an  open  gate  into  the  kingdom  of 
God.  They  repented  because  they  were  assured 
that  for  them  there  was  a  place  for  repentance  and 
a  way  back  to  purity  of  conscience,  to  holiness  of 
life,  to  God. 

The  priests  and  elders,  the  men  who  repre- 
sented all  that  was  respectable  and  religious  in 
the  country,  were  depicted  in  the  second  son  who 
promptly  said  he  would  go  and  work  for  his  father, 
but  did  not  do  so.  This  son  gives  his  answer  in 
the  one  word  ''  I,"  as  if  he  meant,  "  Oh !  you 
need  have  no  doubt  about  me.  I  am  ready.  I 
am  at  your  service.  My  brother  is  a  shameless 
fellow,  but  as  for  me  you  have  onl3^  to  command 
me."  This  son  takes  it  for  granted  he  is  the  du- 
tiful son  ;  he  puts  no  pressure  on  himself  to  se- 
cure obedience  ;  he  is  conscious  of  no  necessity 
to  guard  against  temptations  to  forgetfulness,  to 


THE   TWO   SONS.  1 57 

indolence,  to  selfishness.  He  takes  for  granted 
that  no  deficiency  will  be  found  in  him,  and  his 
complacency  is  his  ruin.  We  all  know  this 
kind  of  man  :  the  tradesman  to  whom  you  give 
elaborate  instructions,  and  who  assures  you  he 
will  send  you  an  article  precisely  to  your  mind, 
but  actually  sends  you  what  is  quite  useless  for 
your  purposes;  the  friend  who  bids  you  leave 
the  matter  to  him,  but  who  has  no  sooner  turned 
the  corner  of  the  street  than  he  meets  some  one 
whose  conversation  puts  you  and  your  affairs 
clean  out  of  his  mind.  If  promising  had  been  all 
that  was  wanted,  no  community  could  have  been 
more  godly  than  Jerusalem.  These  priests  and 
elders  spent  their  lives  in  professing  to  be  God's 
people.  Their  day  was  filled  with  religious  serv- 
ices. They  had  no  secular  business  at  all ;  they 
were  identified  with  religion  ;  their  whole  life  was 
a  proclamation  that  they  were  God's  servants,  and 
a  profession  of  their  willingness  to  obey.  And 
yet  they  failed  to  do  the  one  thing  they  were 
there  to  do.  They  heard  John's  teaching,  they 
knew  it  was  the  voice  of  God,  but  they  refused 
to  prepare  their  hearts  and  understandings,  as  he 
taught  them,  that  they  might  recognize  Christ. 
The  one  thing  that  John  commanded  them  to  do, 
to  prepare  for  and  receive  the  King,  they  failed 
to  do.  Their  whole  profession  collapsed  like  a 
burst  bubble ;  they  were  proved  to  be  shams,  to 
be  dealing  in  mere  words  with  no  idea  of  realities. 


158  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

It  is  natural  to  suppose  that  the  religious  world 
will  in  every  generation  present  similar  phenom- 
ena. It  requires  no  exceptional  discernment  to 
see  that  in  our  own  day  the  spiritual  condition  of 
these  priests  and  elders  is  abundantly  reproduced. 
There  are  many  now  whose  life  is  in  great  part 
devoted  to  various  ways  of  declaring  a  willingness 
to  serve  God,  but  whose  life  is  also  marked  by 
disobedience.  If  you  listen  to  what  these  persons 
say  you  would  fancy  they  were  God's  most  in- 
dustrious servants ;  if  you  look  at  what  they  do 
you  find  nothing  done  for  God  at  all,  or  that  their 
own  peculiar  and  chief  duty  is  neglected.  Every 
person,  therefore,  who  is  conscious  that  he  re- 
sembles this  son  in  professing  a  willingness  to  do 
God's  will,  should  consider  whether  he  does  not 
also  resemble  him  in  leaving  that  will  undone. 
We  seem  to  be  anxious  to  discover  what  God 
would  have  us  do.  We  read  His  word — we  go 
where  we  hear  it  explained  and  enforced — we  are 
rather  proud  of  our  exceptional  knowledge  of  its 
meaning — we  seem  to  set  great  value  on  any  hand 
that  will  point  out  the  way,  on  any  voice  that 
will  say  to  us:  There,  that  is  the  work  for  you. 

But  does  not  this  forwardness  in  hearing  what 
God's  will  is  sometimes  take  the  place  of  our 
doing  it  ?  Do  we  not  sometimes  mistake  our 
zeal  in  hearing  good  counsel  about  spiritual 
things  for  a  zeal  in  God's  service?  Is  not  our 
knowledge,  or  our  pious   feeling,  or  our  known 


THE   TWO    SONS.  1  59 

sympathy  with  religion,  allowed  to  stand  for 
actual  work  done  ?  Are  we  not  sometimes  as 
satisfied  with  ourselves  when  we  have  seen  clearly 
the  reasonableness  and  desirableness  of  serving 
God,  and  when  we  have  felt  some  desire  to  serve 
Him,  as  if  we  had,  in  fact,  made  a  sacrifice  in  our 
business  for  the  sake  of  righteousness  ?  We  con- 
gratulate ourselves  on  feeling  well-disposed,  we 
complacently  number  ourselves  among  God's 
people,  we  think  with  satisfaction  of  our  clear 
and  moving  views  of  Christ's  work  ;  and  when 
all  these  clear  views  and  pious  feelings  have 
passed  away  without  any  result  in  the  shape  of 
work  done,  we  still  congratulate  ourselves  on 
having  cherished  them.  There  may  be  some 
doubt  about  our  morality,  but  there  can  be  none 
about  our  religion.  Men  may  not  be  quite  sure 
how  far  they  can  trust  us  in  a  business  transac- 
tion ;  our  influence  at  home  may  not  be  of  the 
best  kind  ;  but  no  one  can  have  any  doubt  that 
if  the  religious  men  of  the  city  were  convened 
our  name  would  appear  among  the  invited. 

Let  us  then  deal  honestly  with  ourselves,  and 
wipe  off  the  reproach  of  promising  without  per- 
forming, and  of  staying  among  the  mere  prelimi- 
naries of  obedience.  God  has  desired  us  not 
only  to  think  right,  to  cherish  certain  feelings, 
to  maintain  certain  observances,  but  He  has  en- 
joined all  those  things  as  helps  and  incentives  to 
the  doing  of  His  will.     He  has   said   to  each  of 


l6o  THE  PARABLES   OF  OUR   LORD. 

us,  "  Go,  work."  His  call  comes  to  us  in  this 
form.  If  you  have  any  connection  with  God  at 
all,  He  has  said  to  you,  "  Go,  work."  And  it  is 
a  poor  reason,  surely,  to  offer  for  our  not  work- 
ing, that  we  have  seen  most  clearly  the  reasons 
for  working,  and  that  no  one  has  been  more  ready 
to  promise  obedience.  Which  of  you,  being  a 
parent,  would  not  stand  amazed,  if,  when  you 
challenged  your  child  for  not  doing  what  you 
had  told  him,  he  were  to  say  in  excuse,  "  But  I 
promised  to  do  it ;  I  know  that  I  ought  to  have 
done  it."  Would  you  not  fear  that  some  strange 
obliquity  of  moral  vision  had  affected  your  child  ; 
and  would  you  not  fear  lest  a  child  who  could 
offer  so  utterly  unreasonable  an  excuse  might 
fall  into  the  most  flagrant  and  enormous  vices? 

The  question,  then,  is,  What  have  you  do7ie  ? 
The  passer-by  who  saw  the  one  son  stripped  and 
hard  at  work  under  the  sun  among  the  vines, 
while  the  other  lounged  simperingly  on  the  road 
telling  people  what  an  admirable  man  his  father 
was,  and  what  a  pleasure  it  was  to  work  for  him, 
and  how  much  he  hoped  the  vintage  would  be 
abundant — I  say,  the  passer-by  would  have  not 
the  slightest  difficulty  in  forming  a  judgment  of 
the  two  sons.  Would  he  that  has  noted  your 
habits — and  many  have  noted  your  habits — feel 
quite  sure  you  were  God's  obedient  son  ?  Would 
he  think  it  absurd  to  ask  whether  you  had  said 
you  would  obey,  having  the  far  better  proof  of 


THE    TWO    SONS,  l6l 

an  obedient  spirit,  that  you  were  actually  obey- 
ing? So  judge  yourself.  Do  not  believe  in  your 
purpose  to  serve  God  better  until  you  do  serve 
Him  better.  Give  no  credit  to  yourself  for  any- 
thing which  is  not  actually  accomplished.  Do 
not  let  us  be  always  speaking  of  endeavors,  and 
hopes,  and  intentions,  and  struggles,  and  convic- 
tions of  what  is  right,  but  let  us  at  last  do  God's 
will. 

The  other  son  bluntly  refused  at  first  to  go 
and  do  his  father's  bidding.  His  father  had  ad- 
dressed to  him  a  most  reasonable  request,  and 
applied  to  him  an  epithet  much  more  endearing 
than  our  word  "'  Son  ; "  but  he  is  answered  with 
a  harsh,  surly  refusal.  There  is  no  attempt  made 
by  the  son  to  excuse  himself  or  soften  the  re- 
fusal ;  no  mention  of  previous  engagements,  pri- 
vate business  of  his  own,  or  necessary  duties  else- 
where. He  is  unfeeling  and  wantonly  rude,  as 
well  as  disobedient.  He  represents,  therefore, 
those  who  are  rather  forward  in  their  repudiation 
of  God's  authority.  So  far  from  desiring  to  be 
considered  godly,  they  rather  affect  a  deeper, 
more  resolute  ungodliness  than  they  feel,  a  more 
vicious  wickedness  than  belongs  to  them.  They 
flaunt  their  opposition  to  all  that  is  Christian. 

Such  persons  are  frequently  the  subjects  of  a 

peculiar  delusion.     Being  themselves  quite  honest 

and  open  in  their  ungodliness,  they  profess  and 

cultivate  a  special  abhorrence  of  hypocrisy.     No 

II 


l62  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

character  is  so  contemptible  in  their  eyes  as  that 
which  pretends  to  grace,  and  thus  loses  the  pleas- 
ure both  of  sin  and  of  holiness  ;  and  amidst  all 
their  enjoyments  there  are  few  greater  than  that 
which  proceeds  from  the  unmasking  of  some  pro- 
fessed Christian.  They  seem  to  think  hypocrisy 
the  crowning  sin  ;  and  so  zealously  do  they  cul- 
tivate their  skill  in  detecting  it  that  they  become 
blind  to  every  other.  Like  well-trained  hounds, 
they  know  no  game  but  that  they  are  trained  to 
hunt.  And  thus  they  actually  glide  into  the  be- 
lief that  because  they  are  not  hypocrites,  they 
are  not  in  a  dangerous  position.  But  if  a  man  is 
going  to  destruction,  it  is,  after  all,  a  poor  con- 
solation that  he  is  doing  so  with  his  eyes  open. 
Is  it  not  time  for  a  man  to  bethink  himself,  when 
he  finds  matter  for  self-gratulation  in  the  fact  that 
he  does  not  make  the  smallest  profession  of  serv- 
ing God  or  of  seeking  to  be  saved?  You  are 
honest  in  refusing  to  assume  a  character  you 
do  not  possess,  but  are  you  wise  to  refuse  the 
real  attainment  of  that  character?  You  are 
honest  in  seeking  to  be  known  for  what  you  are, 
but  are  you  wise  to  be  what  you  are  ?  Could 
you  not  be  equally  honest  were  you  nearer  to 
God  and  liker  Him?  It  will  not  stand  you  in 
the  day  when  God  takes  account  of  His  servants 
to  say  that  you  never  professed  to  serve  Him. 

But  the  whole  history  of   this   first  son  is  not 
that  he  refused  to   labor   for  his  father;  he  after- 


THE   TWO    SONS.  1 63 

wards  repented  and  went.  Perhaps  the  hurt  look 
of  his  father  had  shot  some  compunction  into  his 
soul.  Perhaps  the  very  roughness  of  his  own 
voice  had  startled  him,  and  suddenly  revealed  to 
him  how  far  he  had  gone  in  sin,  and  how  fast  his 
heart  was  hardening.  Perhaps  the  weary  gait  of 
his  aged  and  unassisted  father,  his  feeble  efforts 
to  accomplish  tasks  that  required  younger  sinews 
than  his,  his  evidently  heart-broken  and  listless 
and  mechanical  way  of  setting  about  the  work — 
perhaps  this  smote  the  young  man's  heart  as  he 
lay  sunning  himself  in  indolence,  and  recalled  old 
days  when  he  was  happy  with  his  father,  and  went 
to  carry  the  tools  he  was  too  young  to  use ;  and 
the  old  feelings  of  filial  affection  rose  again  within 
him, — he  repented  and  went  to  the  vineyard. 

Are  there  none  who  know  that  it  is  time  for 
them  to  follow  this  youth's  example  ;  none  who 
are  conscious  they  have  not  done  their  duty  to- 
wards God  ;  who  have  made  no  pretense  even  of 
doing  God's  will,  but  have  persistently  shut  their 
eyes  to  His  love,  denied  His  claims,  and  despised 
His  commandment?  Do  you  feel  no  compunc- 
tion ?  Are  you.  worse  than  even  those  publicans 
and  harlots  who  no  sooner  learned  there  was  for- 
giveness and  a  clean  life  for  them  than  they 
eagerly  sought  God  ?  Do  you  prefer  a  life  every 
hour  of  which  pains  and  grieves  your  heavenly 
Father,  and  a  life  which  in  itself  is  condemned  by 
God  and  man  ;  do  you  prefer  a  life  which  in  your 


164  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

sober  moments  you  cannot  yourself  approve,  and 
which  lacks  all  tenderness  towards  God  and  all 
[truth  and  purity,  to  a  life  which  God  Himself 
calls  you  to  as  worthy  of  you  and  as  the  begin- 
ning of  never-ending  blessedness  ?  Were  it  pos- 
sible for  God  to  call  you  by  name  and  from  His 
unseen  dwelling  this  moment  to  break  silence  and 
call  you  to  work  for  Him,  were  He  to  tell  you  of 
His  love  for  you  and  to  invite  you  to  turn  to  Him, 
would  you  refuse  Him,  could  you  refuse  Him  ? 
Does  He  not  then  summon  you  now?  Does  He 
not  do  even  more  than  this?  Does  He  not  speak 
within  your  own  heart,  and  cause  you  to  feel  it 
were  well  and  wise  to  meet  with  humble  welcome 
all  His  overtures  ?  Can  you  rest  under  the  stigma 
of  a  hard-heartedness  that  cannot  be  moved  by 
infinite  tenderness  ?  Can  you  rest  content  to  turn 
away  to  your  own  private  employments  and  ways 
while  God  offers  you  that  which  will  make  your 
whole  work  and  your  whole  life  true? 

As  a  whole,  this  parable  shows  us  how  God 
is  served  by  men,  and  shows  us  especially  that 
though  there  are  greater  and  less  degrees  of  dis- 
obedience and  impenitence,  there  is  no  such  thing 
as  consistent  uniform  obedience.  The  best  that 
God  gets  from  earth  is  the  obedience  of  repent- 
ance. Men  must  still,  each  for  himself,  try  their 
own  way,  and  only  when  this  is  found  to  be  quite 
foolish  and  hurtful  and  hopeless,  do  they  try 
God's   way.     No    one  can  take  God's    word    for 


THE   TWO    SONS.  1 65 

it  that  such  and  such  are  the  things  to  be  done  ; 
such  and  such  others  to  be  avoided.  We  must 
for  ourselves  know  good  and  evil,  we  must  be 
as  gods  making  choice  between  the  good  that 
sin  brings  and  its  evil,  and  if  then  God's  judg- 
ment about  sin  tallies  with  our  own,  we  accept  it. 
Such  a  thing  as  simple,  perpetual  acceptance  of 
God's  commands  from  first  to  last  is  not  to  be 
found  ;  and  repentance,  though  certainly  to  be 
rejoiced  over,  is,  after  all,  only  the  second  best 
thing.  Apology,  however  sincere,  is  at  all  times 
a  very  poor  substitute  for  conduct  that  needs 
none."^  And  yet  you  will  often  see  that  a  man 
considers  that  a  graceful  apology,  whether  to  God 
or  men,  more  than  repairs  the  wrong  he  has  done. 
Let  us  then  be  on  our  guard  lest  even  our  re- 
pentance be  sin,  and  our  humiliation  tainted  with 
pride.  When  we  come  to  God  with  apology  for 
neglect  of  duty,  we  are  often  as  proud  of  having 
insight  enough  to  see  deeply  into  the  evil  of  our 
hearts  as  we  are  humbled  by  a  sense  of  the  wrong 
we  have  done  in  omitting  whole  years  of  service. 
We  seem  to  be  more  worthy  of  praise  for  discov- 
ering the  sinfulness  of  a  past  action  than  of  blame 
for  committing  it.  We  are  secretly  flattered  by 
finding  that  we  are  taking  our  place  among  those 
who  have  a  fine  discernment  of  the  higher  duties 
of  the  Christian  life  and  of  the  secret  and  subtle 
iniquities  of  the  human  heart,  and  when  we  con- 
*  So  John  Foster  in  his  *'  Lectures." 


l66  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

fess  these,  it  is  with  less  shame  than  complacency. 
Through  all  our  confession  there  is  running  a 
silent,  "I  thank  Thee,  Lord,  that  I  am  not  as 
other  men,  who  could  not  confess  such  sins  as  I 
am  confessing,  because  they  are  still  down  among 
the  glaring  and  immoral  wickednesses,  and  have 
not  so  much  as  thought  of  those  duties  that  I 
have  been  striving  after."  It  is,  no  doubt,  right 
to  be  convinced  we  have  been  wrong,  it  is  right 
to  turn  in  to  God's  vineyard,  even  though  it  be 
after  refusing  to  do  so,  but  that  complacency 
should  mingle  with  our  repentance  is  surely  a 
triumph  of  duplicity.  To  make  our  very  con- 
fession of  total  unprofitableness  matter  of  self- 
gratulation  is  surely  the  extreme  of  even  religious 
self-deception. 

But  if  we  carry  anything  at  all  with  us  from 
this  parable,  it  must  be  this:  How  greatly  our 
knowledge  is  in  excess  of  our  action.  Our  Lord 
easily  elicited  from  these  persons  an  unqualified 
condemnation  of  conduct  which  precisely  repre- 
sented their  own.  They  held  in  their  minds 
principles  which,  had  they  only  been  applied  to 
their  own  conduct,  would  have  made  them  very 
different  men.  This  reproach  never  passes  from 
the  world :  all  of  us  know  more  than  we  practise. 
In  the  best  of  us  there  lies  unused  a  large  amount 
of  instructive,  stimulating,  consolatory  knowledge. 
The  worst  regulated  life,  the  conduct  which  is 
most   shameful   and   hurtful,  is  frequently   that 


THE   TWO    SONS.  1 67 

of  a  thoroughly  intelligent  and  well-instructed 
person.  In  the  mind  of  the  most  careless  among 
us  there  is  held  truth  enough  to  save  the  world, 
and  principles  which,  if  only  applied,  would  form 
an  unblemished  character.  And  which  of  us, 
when  we  recount  and  condemn  the  faults  of 
others,  does  not  show  an  intelligence  and  a  zeal 
for  virtue  of  which  there  is  small  sign  in  some 
parts  of  our  own  life  ? 

The  question  w^hich  this  parable  suggests  is 
not,  what  do  you  know  ?  but,  what  are  you  doing? 
not,  have  you  acknowledged  the  righteousness  of 
God's  demands  ?  have  you  seen  that  it  is  good 
for  you  to  obey  ?  do  you  own  and  constantly  pro- 
fess that  you  are  His  servants?  but,  have  you 
done  what  God  has  given  to  you  to  do  ?  God  has 
commanded  you  to  love  Him  with  all  your  heart 
and  strength  ;  you  know  you  ought,  but  have 
you  done  it?  He  has  told  you  that  this  espe- 
cially is  the  work  of  God,  that  you  believe  on 
Him  whom  He  hath  sent ;  have  you  done  it  ? 
He  calls  you  to  work  for  Him,  to  consider  what 
you  can  do  to  forward  what  is  good,  to  set  before 
you  as  your  aim  in  life  not  advantage  of  any  kind 
to  yourself,  but  righteousness  in  yourself  and  in 
others.  Do  not  despair  of  doing  something 
useful ;  there  are  ways  in  which  you  can  be  help- 
ful. These  publicans  and  harlots  might  well 
have  thought  there  was  no  room  for  them  to  do 
good  in  the  community,  and  that  their  tastes 


l68  THE   PARABLFe  OF   OUR   LORD. 

were  such  that  they  could  never  love  purity  and 
truth  and  unselfishness.  You  may  feel  the  same. 
You  may  feel  that  if  you  do  the  external  duty 
you  yet  have  no  love  for  it,  and  you  cannot  bear 
to  look  forward  to  a  life  in  which  at  every  step 
you  will  require  to  put  compulsion  on  yourself  to 
do  so.  But  such  will  not  be  the  case.  Do  the 
duty,  and  the  spirit  will  come.  Obey  God,  and 
you  will  learn  to  love  Him.  Compel  yourself  to 
all  duties  now,  and  soon  you  will  like  the  duties 
that  are  now  distasteful.  The  man  that  is  drawn 
out  of  the  water  half-drowned  can  only  be  restored 
by  artificial  respiration,  but,  if  this  is  persevered 
in,  the  natural  breathing  at  last  begins,  and  the 
functions  of  healthy,  unforced  respirations  super- 
sede the  artificial  means.  And  thus  God  educates 
us  to  ease  and  naturalness  in  all  duty.  Under 
cover  of  the  outward  conduct,  the  new  spirit 
grows  and  grows  to  such  strength  that  at  last  it 
maintains  the  outward  conduct  as  its  natural  fruit. 


THE  WICKED    HUSBANDMEN. 

Matt.  xxi.  33-45. 

"  Hear  another  parable,"  says  our  Lord  to 
these  ecclesiastical  dignitaries  who  were  probably 
feeling  that  they  had  heard  quite  enough  already. 
Their  dignity,  they  felt,  was  suffering  in  the  eyes 
of  the  mob,  who  could  not  fail  to  see  that  the 
tables  had  been  turned  against  them,  and  who 
rarely  conceal  the  rough  relish  they  have  in  con- 
templating the  discomfiture  of  pompous  ignorance 
and  sanctimonious  arrogance.  If  there  flew 
round  the  circle  none  of  those  jeering  remarks  or 
smart  personal  hits  which  would  inevitably  have 
been  elicited  from  an  English  crowd,  there  would 
not  be  wanting  significant  nods  and  satisfied 
smiles  which  would  show  with  equal  clearness  to 
the  priests  and  elders  that  in  seeking  to  expose 
the  pretensions  of  Jesus  they  had  only  exposed 
themselves.  Their  falseness  in  disguising  their 
reluctance  to  accept  Jesus  as  the  Christ  under 
pretense  of  seeking  further  evidence,  was  with  a 
wonderful  facility  laid  bare  to  all.  They  stood 
convicted  of  refusing  to  accept  the   testimony  of 

one  whom  they  dared  not  deny  to  be  from  God. 

169 


170  THE    PARABLES   OF   OUR    LORD. 

They  stood  convicted  of  having  incapacituted 
themselves  for  recognizing  the  divine  in  Jesus. 
But  theirs  is  not  the  guilt  of  the  common 
unbeHever;  it  was  not  merely  their  personal  duty 
and  interest  to  keep  themselves  awake  to  the 
divine  by  righteousness  of  life,  it  was  their  official 
duty  as  well.  It  was  the  duty  for  which  their 
office  existed.  They  must  therefore  be  shown  up 
as  men  who  are  hollow  shams,  who  are  com- 
placently maintaining  their  official  dignity  and 
the  routine  and  forms  of  their  office,  while  they 
are  wholly  oblivious  of  its  one  great  object.  They 
are  worse  than  useless.  They  are  as  agents  whom 
a  man  has  appointed  to  manage  his  business  or 
his  property  for  him,  and  who  use  their  positions 
for  embezzling  the  entire  proceeds,  and  enriching 
themselves  at  his  expense. 

The  parabolic  dress  under  which  this  warning 
or  judgment  is  carried  home  to  them  is  a  very 
thin  veil,  through  which  no  one  could  fail  to  dis- 
cern the  living  truth.  The  liberally  cared-for 
vineyard,  furnished  with  every  advantage  to 
facilitate  productiveness,  was  of  course  Israel, 
hedged  off  from  the  outlying  and  less  cared  for 
fields  of  heathenism,  and  furnished  with  all  that 
goes  to  fructify  human  nature.  As  God  had  long 
since  declared,  nothing  that  could  be  done  had 
been  left  undone.  As  many  men  will  go  to  any 
expense  in  improving  their  property,  trying  new 
methods,  providing  the  best  implements,  taking 


THE   WICKED    HUSBANDMEN.  171 

a  pride  in  having  every  road  and  fence  in  good 
repair,  so  everything  had  been  done  in  Israel  that 
could  be  expected  to  fertilize  human  nature.  A 
small  section  of  humanity  had  been  railed  off,  and 
the  experiment  was  made  that  it  might  be  seen  to 
what  a  pitch  of  productiveness  this  m.ost  fruitful 
of  God's  plants  could  be  brought.  A  family  or 
race  of  men  was  chosen  and  set  apart  for  the  very 
purpose  of  receiving  every  advantage  which  could 
help  men  to  produce  the  proper  fruit  of  man ;  to 
maintain  a  vigorous,  healthy  life,  and  to  yield  re- 
sults which  might  seem  to  justify  the  care  spent 
on  them.  There  was  to  be  a  nursery  of  virtue, 
where  any  one  would  only  have  to  look  in  order 
to  see  what  proper  cultivation  could  effect.  Here 
it  was  to  be  shown  that  barbarism,  degradation, 
violence,  lust,  and  idolatry  were  not  the  proper 
fruit  of  human  nature.  In  this  garden  man  was 
to  receive  every  possible  aid  and  inducement  to 
development  and  productiveness :  nothing  was 
wanting  which  could  win  men  to  holiness,  noth- 
ing which  could  enlarge,  purify,  fertilize  human 
nature. 

And  what  was  the  result  ?  The  result  was  that 
which  every  reformatory  in  the  country  gives, 
namely,  that  human  nature  in  the  abstract  is  one 
thing  ;  in  the  concrete,  in  the  individual,  another  ; 
that  as  some  soils  simply  absorb  all  that  you 
can  put  into  them  and  give  no  sign,  so  do  most 
men  simply  absorb  all    manner  of  inducements. 


1/2  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

counsels,  warnings,  aids,  and  bring  forth  nothing 
serviceable  to  God  or  man.  Even  persons  pro- 
fessing religion  are  quite  contented,  nay,  even 
think  they  are  making  vast  attainment  and  thriv- 
ing magnificently,  when  they  are  merely  receiv- 
ing, and  doing  nothing  or  little.  They  measure 
themselves  by  the  care  God  is  spending  on 
them,  not  by  the  fruit  they  are  yielding;  by  the 
amount  of  instruction  they  have  received  and 
retain,  not  by  the  use  they  have  made  of  it ;  by 
the  grace  spent  upon  them,  and  not  by  the  re- 
sults. In  short,  they  make  the  blunder  which  sub- 
verts the  whole  of  religion,  of  turning  means  into 
ends. 

But  in  this  parable  it  is  not  the  plants  that  are 
censured  for  barrenness,  but  the  keepers  of  the 
vineyard  that  are  condemned  for  unfaithfulness 
to  the  owner.  The  fruit  borne,  whether  more  or 
less  than  common,  was  intercepted  by  the  hus- 
bandmen. They  used  their  position  solely  for 
their  own  advantage.  That  is  to  say,  the  priests 
and  elders  of  the  Jews  had  fallen  into  the  com- 
mon snare  of  ecclesiastical  leaders,  and  had  used 
the  dignity  and  advantageous  position  of  their 
office  for  their  own  behoof,  and  had  failed  to  re- 
member that  they  had  it  only  as  God's  servants. 
The  religious  leader  is  quite  as  liable  as  the  polit- 
ical or  military  leader  to  be  led  by  a  desire  for 
glory,  applause,  notoriety,  distinction,  power. 
And   the  Church  is  quite  as  open  a  field  for   the 


THE  WICKED   HUSBANDMEN.  1 73 

exercise  and  manifestation  of  such  unworthy 
motives  as  the  State  is.^  The  Church,  being  a 
society  of  men,  must  be  managed  by  the  usual 
methods,  which  all  societies  of  men  adopt.  There 
must  be  combination,  contrivance,  adjustment, 
discussion,  laws  and  regulations.  The  Church  in 
its  outward  system  and  movements  must  be 
wrought  by  the  same  machinery  as  other  large 
associations  use.  And  it  is  notorious  that  the 
mere  working  of  this  machinery  requires  no  spirit- 
ual faculty  in  the  persons  who  manage  it.  It 
calls  into  exercise  a  certain  class  of  gifts  and 
faculties,  certain  talents  and  qualities  which  are 
eminently  serviceable,  but  which  may  equally 
be  exercised  for  the  State  or  for  the  Church,  for 
the  world  or  for  God.  The  political  leader  who 
negotiates  with  foreign  powers,  who  foresees 
calamity  and  has  skill  to  avert  it,  who  can  control 
large  bodies  of  men  and  keep  vast  organizations 
in  noiseless  motion,  may  exercise  these  great  gifts 
either  for  his  country  and  his  God,  or  merely  for 
the  sake  of  making  or  maintaining  his  reputation 
as  the  most  influential  man  of  his  generation. 
And  the  ecclesiastic  who  has  very  much  the  same 
kind  of  work  to  do,  feeling  the  pulse  of  the  theo- 
logical and  ecclesiastical  world,  making  out 
through  the  distorting  haze  of  public  report  and 
opinion  what  are  the  facts  of  a  case  and  what  is 

*  See  the  late  Canon  Mozley's  Sermon  on  "  The  Reversal  of 
Human  Judgment." 


174  'I  HE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

best  to  be  done  in  it,  and  talking  over  to  his  view 
large  bodies  of  men — this  man,  like  the  politician, 
may  be  serving  his  God,  or  he  may  be  serving 
himself.  Success  may  be  the  idol  of  the  one  as 
truly  as  of  the  other.  To  have  a  large  religious 
following  and  wide  influence  in  the  Church  may 
be  as  thoroughly  selfish  and  worldly  a  desire  as  to 
be  at  the  head  of  a  strong  political  party.  It  is 
not  the  sphere  in  which  one's  work  is  done  that 
proves  its  spirituality  orworldliness  ;  neither  is  it 
always  the  nature  of  the  work  that  is  done,  but 
the  motive  that  tests  whether  it  is  spiritual  or 
worldly.  These  priests  and  elders  had  not  escaped 
the  snare  into  which  their  predecessors  had  fallen, 
and  to  which  all  their  successors  are  exposed. 
They  had  used  their  position  to  attract  applause 
to  themselves,  or  to  make  their  influence  felt  in 
the  community,  or  to  win  for  themselves  a  name 
as  defenders  of  the  faith. 

Another  and  still  more  insidious  form  of  the 
same  temptation  it  maybe  worth  while  to  notice. 
It  is  that  temptation  to  which  our  Lord  alluded 
when  He  censured  this  same  class  of  persons  for 
their  zeal  in  proselytizing.  But  why  so  ?  Is  not 
zeal  in  propagating  religion  a  good  thing?  If 
these  foremost  men  in  the  Jewish  Church  com- 
passed sea  and  land  to  make  one  proselyte,  is  this 
not  that  very  missionary  zeal  which  the  Jews  are 
upbraided  for  wanting,  and  the  modern  Church 
prides  itself  on  possessing  ?     Is  evangelistic  fervor 


THE   WICKED    HUSBANDMEN.  1 75 

In  the  nineteenth  century  a  thing  to  applaud, 
while  the  same  fervor  in  the  first  is  to  be  con- 
demned? or  what  was  it  in  these  men's  zeal  that 
so  roused  our  Lord's  indignation?  It  was  that 
same  element  which  so  often  still  taints  zeal  for 
the  propagation  of  religious  truth — the  desire 
rather  to  bring  men  over  to  my  way  of  thinking 
and  so  to  strengthen  my  own  position,  than  to 
bring  them  to  the  truth.  My  way  of  thinking 
may  be  the  truth,  or  may,  at  least,  be  much 
nearer  it  than  the  opinions  held  by  others,  and  for 
them  it  may  be  a  good  thing  to  be  brought  over 
to  my  views ;  but  for  myself  it  is  a  bad  thing  and 
the  mere  strengthening  of  a  selfish  craving,  if  I 
seek  to  propagate  my  opinions  rather  because 
they  are  mine  than  because  they  are  the  truth. 
And  how  wide-spreading  and  deep-reaching  an 
evil  this  is,  those  well  know  who  have  observed 
religious  controversy  and  seen  ho\v_ dangerously 
near  propagandism  lies  to  persecution.  The  zeal 
that  proceeds  from  a  loving  consideration  for 
others  does  not,  when  resisted,  darken  into  vio- 
lence and  ferocity.  The  mother  seeking  to  per- 
suade her  son  does  not  become  fierce  when  op- 
posed, but  only  increasingly  tender  and  pitifully 
gentle.  The  zeal  for  truth  that  storms  at  opposi- 
tion and  becomes  bitter  and  fierce  when  con- 
tradicted, you  may,  therefore,  recognize  as  spring- 
ing from  a  desire  rather  to  have  one's  own  wisdom 
and  one's  own  influence  acknowledged  than  from 


1/6  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

either  deep  love  for  others  or  deep  regard  for  the 
truth  as  the  truth. 

But  to  return — the  implied  and  slightly  dis- 
guised condemnation  of  the  parable  our  Lord 
proceeds  to  enforce  in  an  explicit  form.  The 
truth  which  had  been  sheathed  in  the  parable  He 
thrusts  home  now  with  naked  point.  "  The  king- 
dom of  God  shall  be  taken  from  you  and  given  to 
a  nation  bringing  forth  the  fruits  thereof."  And 
this  warning  is  grounded  not  on  a  parable,  which 
they  might  have  affected  to  despise,  but  on  a 
passage  of  the  very  Scriptures  they  professed  to 
be  the  guardians  of.  There  had  been  the  warning 
before  their  eyes,  read  by  them,  sung  by  them  at 
their  festivals,  carefully  treasured  in  their  mem- 
ories ;  and  yet,  like  us  all,  they  had  so  little 
penetrated  to  its  sense,  had  so  little  thought  out 
its  meaning  and  possible  application,  had  looked 
upon  it  so  much  as  a  dead  letter  and  so  little  as 
alive  for  them  and  for  all  men,  that  our  Lord  has 
yet  to  ask  them  :  "  Did  ye  never  read  in  the 
Scriptures,  The  stone  which  the  builders  rejected 
is  become  the  head  of  the  corner?  "  Is  not  this 
stone  the  same  as  the  heir  sent  by  the  lord  of  the 
vineyard  ?  Are  not  ye  now  in  danger  of  fulfill- 
ing the  prophecy  ye  know  so  well  ?  Are  you  not 
about  to  reject  and  cast  contempt  on  one  whom 
in  your  souls  you  know  to  be  worthy  of  far  other 
treatment  ? 

The  careful  reader  of  this  conversation  will  be 


THE  WICKED   HUSBANDMEN.  1 77 

Struck  with  two  points  in  it — first  that  Jesus 
claims  to  be  the  heir  of  God  ;  in  other  words,  He 
deHberately  sets  Himself  on  a  wholly  different 
level  from  the  other  prophets — high  above  Isaiah, 
Elijah,  nay,  even  high  above  Moses  himself. 
They  were  all  servants  ;  He  is  in  quite  a  different 
relation  to  the  proprietor,  that  is,  to  God.  He  is 
the  Son  and  Heir;  in  acting  for  God  He  acts  for 
Himself.  It  is  because  the  vinedressers  identify 
Him  with  the  owner  that  they  have  a  hope  of 
gaining  possession  of  the  vineyard  by  killing  the 
heir.  To  kill  a  mere  servant  would  have  served 
no  such  purpose,  another  servant  can  always  be 
appointed  ;  however  high  his  office  and  title,  an- 
other can  always  be  raised,  and  equal  authority 
can  be  delegated  to  him  ;  but  there  is  no  other 
son.  It  is  nature  and  relationship,  not  mere  offi- 
cial dignity,  that  underlies  this  title  and  that  is 
implied  in  the  parable. 

But  the  second  point  is  even  more  worthy  of  re- 
mark. Our  Lord  implies  that  this  was  known  by 
these  Jewish  leaders.  Their  condemnation  was, 
that  knowing  Him  to  be  the  Son  of  God,  they 
slew  Him.  Peter,  indeed,  apologetically  says 
that  they  would  not  have  slain  Him  had  they 
known  He  was  the  Lord  of  glory.  It  may  have 
been  so  in  some  instances;  and,  no  doubt,  had 
they  allowed  the  fact  to  stand  clear  before  their 
minds,  had  they  given  free  course  to  it  and  weight 
to  it,  they  could   not   have  done  what  they  did. 

12 


178  THE    PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

Still,  as  the  parable  shows,  it  was  just  because 
they  knew  this  was  the  heir  that  they  were  so 
eager  to  remove  Him.  Their  state  of  mind  is 
perfectly  intelligible  and  very  common.  There 
lay  latent  in  them  a  deep  consciousness  which 
they  would  not  allow  to  become  distinct  and  in- 
fluential. They  had  a  conviction  that  Jesus  was 
the  Christ,  but  they  would  not  let  their  mind 
dwell  upon  it.  There  are  few  of  us  who  have  not 
such  buried  convictions,  few  of  us  who  do  not 
leave  out  of  sight  thouglits  w^hich,  if  allowed 
influence,  would  urge  us  to  unwelcome  action. 
There  are  thousands  who  have  a  haunting  sus- 
picion that  Jesus  deserves  a  very  different  kind 
of  recognition  from  that  which  they  give  Him. 
Is  there  not  lying  in  the  mind  of  some  of  you 
half-formed  thoughts  about  Jesus,  possible  if  not 
actual  convictions,  which  if  you  carefully  thought 
them  out  would  lead  you  to  take  up  a  different  and 
much  more  satisfactory  attitude  towards  Him? 

And  if  there  are  those  who  feel  that  things 
should  be  plainer,  that  the  majesty  of  Christ 
should  be  so  borne  in  upon  the  soul  that  all 
would  yield  to  Him,  this  is  natural  ;  but  it  is  to 
overlook  the  fundamental  fact  that  room  must  be 
left  for  freedom  of  choice  and  the  exercise  of  judg- 
ment. The  fact  is,  that  the  rejection  of  Christ  by 
so  many  is  one  of  the  proofs  that  He  is  Divine. 
It  is  worldly  worth  that  is  acknowledged  by  all, 
and    worldly    blessings   that    are    universally  ac- 


THE   WICKED    HUSBANDMEN.  1/9 

cepted.  The  higher  the  blessing,  the  fewer  accept 
it.  All  wish  plenty  to  eat,  a  minority  value  good 
education,  a  few  seek  the  kingdom  of  God.  And 
so  our  Lord  here  points  out  that  it  had  long  been 
foreseen  that  when  He  came  He  would  be  reject- 
ed. In  reply  to  those  questioners  who  ask  how 
He  can  allow  the  Hosanna  Psalm  to  be  applied  to 
Him  by  the  people,  He  takes  this  very  psalm, 
and  out  of  it  proves  to  the  authorities  that  their 
very  resistance  and  rejection  of  Him  is  the  proof 
that  He  is  what  the  crowd  were  afifirming  Him  to 
be — the  Messiah,  the  Son  and  Heir  of  God,  the 
Stone  despised  of  the  builders,  but  chosen  of  God. 
Rejection  by  the  builders  was  one  of  the  marks 
by  which  the  foundation  chosen  by  God  was  to 
be  identified.  Truth  is  often  more  convincingly 
exhibited  by  the  opposition  of  a  certain  class  of 
men.  It  is  not  discredited  by  their  opposition  ; 
but  a  prima  facie  point  in  its  favor  is  that  they 
do  not  receive  it.  And,  certainly,  had  the  claims 
of  Jesus  been  accepted  by  these  dried-up  formal 
traditionalists  we  should  have  had  some  cause 
for  doubt. 

Abandoning  the  figure  used  in  the  parable,  our 
Lord  makes  use  of  a  new  figure  to  complete 
the  warning.  He  speaks  of  two  possible  contin, 
gencies — "■  Whosoever  shall  fall  on  this  stone  shall 
be  broken  " — this  had  been  declared  by  Isaiah — 
"  but  on  whomsoever  it  shall  fall,  it  will  grind  him 
to  powder,"  this  figure  had  been   familiarized  by 


I80  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

Daniel's  use  of  it.  The  stone  which  lies  ready- 
hewn  and  suitable  for  the  best  part  of  a  building 
may  inflict  severe  injury  on  the  builder,  either  by 
his  carelessly  stumbling  upon  it,  falling  from  a 
height  upon  it,  and  so  getting  himself  bruised  and 
broken  ;  or  it  may  fall  from  a  height  upon  him,  in 
which  case  it  is  certain  death. 

The  first  case  is  that  in  which  Christ  is  a  stone 
of  stumbling  to  those  to  whom  He  is  presented. 
God  lays  this  stone  everywhere  in  our  way  that 
we  may  build  upon  it  or  set  it  high  in  the  place 
of  honor,  and  we  cannot  simply  walk  on   as  if 
God  had  done  no  such  thing.      Whatever   else 
Christ  is,  He  is  substantial,  a  reality  as  solid  as 
the  stone  against  which  your  foot  is  jarred.     To 
make  as  if  He  were  not,  and  to  pass  on  untouched 
and  unchanged,  is  impossible.     If  we  attempt  to 
do  so,  ignoring  that  the  stone  is  there,  we  stumble 
and  fall  and  injure  ourselves.      The  foundation 
stone  becomes  a  stone  of  offense.     Every  one  who 
hears  the  gospel,  every  one  in  whose  path  Christ 
is  laid,  is  either  the   better  or  the   worse   for  it. 
The  gospel  once  heard   is  **  henceforward  a  per- 
petual element  in  the  whole  condition,  character, 
and   destiny  of  the  hearer."      No   man  who  has 
heard  can  be  as  if  he  had  not.     Though   he  may 
wish  to  pass  on  as  if  he  had  not  seen  Christ  at  all, 
he  is  not  the  same  man  as  he  was  before,  his  spir- 
itual condition  is  altered,  possibilities  have  dawned 
upon   his  mind,  openings  into  regions  which  are 


THE   WICKED    HUSBANDMEN.  l8l 

new  and  otherwise  inaccessible,  he  is  haunted  by 
unsettled  perplexities,  doubts,  anxieties,  thoughts. 
This  attitude  of  mind  must  have  been  very 
common  in  Christ's  own  time,  many  persons  must 
have  shrunk  from  the  responsibility  of  determin- 
ing for  themselves  what  they  ought  to  think  of 
Him.  Many  now  do  the  same.  They  wish  to 
overlook  Him  and  pass  on  into  life  as  if  He  were 
not  in  their  path.  But  how  foolish  if  He  be  the 
one  foundation  on  whom  a  life  can  safely  be  built. 
Men  do  not  think  of  sin  as  a  permanent  founda- 
tion— they  only  think  of  it  as  a  temporary  ex- 
pedient— practises  get  into  a  man's  life  which  he 
does  not  like  to  think  of  as  permanent,  but  only 
as  serving  present  turns.  They  do  not  deliber- 
ately choose  anything  as  permanently  satisfactory, 
cannot  bring  their  minds  to  the  idea  of  being 
built  171  and  settled  finally,  even  though  they  have 
some  consciousness  that  it  were  wise  to  be  so. 
Those  who  thus  overlook  Christ  and  try  to  pass 
on  into  life  as  if  He  were  not,  damage  their  own 
character,  because  they  know  He  is  there,  and 
until  they  make  up  their  minds  about  Him,  life 
is  a  mere  make-believe.  It  is  thus  they  are  bruised 
on  this  stone  of  stumbling.  They  are  practising 
upon  themselves,  and  are  not  true  to  their  ov/n 
convictions.  They  do  not  walk  steadily  and  up- 
rightly as  those  whose  path  is  ascertained  and 
assured,  but  they  stumble  as  those  who  are  still 
tripped  up  and  held  back  by  something  they  have 


l82  THE   PARABLES    OF   OUR   LORD. 

not  taken  account  of.  Just  as  a  person  who  feels 
he  has  forgotten  something,  cannot  give  his  mind 
fully  to  what  is  before  him,  but  is  held  back  by 
the  unconscious  effort  to  remember,  so  here  the 
spirit  that  has  yet  to  take  account  of  Christ  and 
decide  regarding  Him  is  held  back  and  distracted. 
Besides,  this  unwillingness  to  face  facts  fairly, 
this  desire  to  do  for  a  time  without  Christ,  and 
as  if  He  were  not  in  our  path,  is  apt  to  produce  a 
habitual  falseness  in  the  spirit.  You  may  be  un- 
conscious of  any  such  process,  but  many  processes 
go  on  in  us  quite  as  effectually  without  as  with 
our  intention.  Those  which  are  fatal  to  the  body 
do  so.  Each  refusal  to  determine  regarding 
Christ  makes  your  conscience  blunter,  your  heart 
less  open  to  righteous  and  reasonable  influence. 
It  may  be  by  a  very  little,  yet  it  does.  The  frost 
of  a  minute,  or  of  thirty  minutes,  may  be  imper- 
ceptible in  its  result,  or  it  may  only  draw  a  few 
pretty  lines  upon  the  water,  but  it  is  frost  all  the 
same,  and  is  gradually  forming  a  strength  of 
surface  which  no  hammer  can  break,  nor  any  fire 
melt.  By  trying,  then,  to  get  past  Christ  and 
make  a  life  for  yourself  without  Him,  by  trying 
to  build  on  some  other  foundation,  you  are  both 
trying  to  do  what  everything  is  arranged  to  defeat, 
and  you  arc  injuring  your  own  character,  not 
yielding  to  the  influences  that  you  feel  to  be  good, 
nor  listening  to  convictions  which  you  shrewdly 
suspect  to  be  reasonable. 


THE   WICKED    HUSBANDMEN.  1 83 

This  bruised  condition,  however,  is  remediable. 
The  second  action  of  the  stone  on  the  builder  is 
described  as  final.  The  stone,  which  is  of  sufifi- 
cient  massiveness  to  uphold  a  world,  falls  upon 
the  unhappy  opposer,  and  the  living,  hopeful  man 
lies  an  undistinguishable  mass.  At  once  slain 
and  buried,  those  who  determinedly  opposed 
Christ  lie  oppressed  by  that  which  might  have 
been  their  joy.  Their  dwelling  and  refuge  be- 
comes their  tomb.  Every  excellence  of  Christ 
they  have  leagued  against  themselves.  It  is  their 
everlasting  shame  that  they  were  ashamed  of  Him. 
The  faithfulness,  truth,  and  love  of  Christ,  that  is 
to  say,  the  qualities  whose  existence  is  all  that  any 
saved  man  ever  had  to  depend  upon,  the  qualities 
in  the  knowledge  and  faith  of  which  the  weakest 
and  most  heartless  sinner  sets  out  boldly  and 
hopefully  to  eternity,  these  all  now  torment  with 
crushing  remorse  those  who  have  despised  them. 
Do  not  suppose  this  is  an  extravagant  figure  used 
by  our  Lord  to  awe  His  enemies,  and  that  no  man 
will  ever  sufTer  a  doom  which  can  be  fairly  repre. 
sented  in  these  terms.  It  is  a  statement  of  fact. 
Things  are  to  move  on  eternally  in  fulfilment  of 
the  will  of  Christ.  He  is  identified  with  all  that 
is  righteous,  all  that  is  wise,  all  that  is  ultimately 
successful.  To  oppose  His  course,  to  endeavo! 
to  defeat  His  object,  to  attempt  to  work  out  an 
eternal  success  apart  from  Him  is  as  idle  as  to 
seek  to  stop  the  earth  in  its  course,  or  to  stand  in 


l84  THE  PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

the  path  of  a  stone  avalanche  in  order  to  stem  it. 
His  kingdom  is  an  everlasting  kingdom — He  has 
become  the  Head  of  our  race,  that  in  Him  we 
may  together  be  led  on  to  everlasting  prosperity 
and  righteousness. 

The  whole  forward  movement  of  individuals 
and  of  the  race  must  be  made  on  the  lines  laid 
down  by  Christ,  and  the  time  is  coming  when  this 
shall  be  so  plainly  manifested  that  all  who  have 
not  His  spirit  shall  feel  that  all  power  has  left 
them,  and  shall  see  the  whole  stream  of  life  and 
progress  flow  past  them,  leaving  them  stranded 
and  wrecked  and  useless.  For  a  long  time  it  may 
be  doubtful  in  a  country  and  in  national  affairs 
whether  progress  and  prosperity  are  bound  up 
with  one  party  or  another,  with  one  spirit  in  trade 
and  in  government  or  with  another,  and  men  take 
their  sides  and  adopt  their  several  causes  ac- 
cording to  their  tastes  and  judgment  ;  but  a  day 
comes  when  the  one  party  is  put  to  confusion, 
and  when  it  is  entirely  left  behind  by  the  current 
of  events.  So  is  it  here,  but  in  a  far  more  mo- 
mentous sense.  It  is  not  only  national  affairs  that 
are  governed  and  guided  by  certain  deep  laws 
that  the  craftiest  statesman  has  no  power  what- 
ever to  alter;  but  the  affairs  of  the  individual,  of 
each  one  of  us,  and  of  all  men  together,  similarly 
move  onwards  according  to  certain  immutable 
moral  laws.  These  are  revealed  to  us  in  Christ, 
that  we  may  know  and  appropriate  them.     For, 


THE   WICKED   HUSBANDMEN.  185 

just  in  proportion  as  we  do  so,  and  attach  our- 
selves to  Him,  and  feel  the  power  and  beauty  of 
His  way  and  of  His  spirit,  shall  we  ourselves 
stand  with  Him  when  all  opposition  has  slunk 
away  ashamed,  and  enter  with  Him  on  the  great 
future  which  will  open  to  those  who  are  capable 
of  taking  a  part  in  it.  What,  then,  you  feel  it  in 
you  to  do  by  God's  grace  in  the  Avay  of  bending 
your  will  to  what  is  right,  of  subduing  the  evil  in 
you  which  you  see  can  but  lead  to  death  and 
disturbance,  these  things  do,  hoping  in  Him  who 
has  promised  to  return  and  reign  eternally. 


THE  MARRIAGE   OF   THE  KING'S  SON. 

Matt.  xxi.  45 — xxii.  14. 

This  parable  is  spoken  to  the  same  mixed 
crowd  as  the  parable  of  the  Two  Sons  and  the 
parable  of  the  Wicked  Husbandmen.  Sorely  hit 
by  the  two  former  parables,  the  chief  priests  and 
Pharisees  would  fain  have  put  a  stop  to  this  kind 
of  teaching,  but  they  feared  the  people.  Public 
opinion  here,  as  often  elsewhere,  was  healthier 
than  the  opinion  of  the  clique  which  had  the 
ofificial  guidance  of  ecclesiastical  and  theological 
affairs.  Public  opinion  was  too  markedly  in  favor 
of  Jesus  just  at  this  time  for  the  Pharisees  to 
ignore  or  brave  it.  They  felt  they  must  take  it 
into  account,  and  either  wait  for  a  turn  in  the 
tide,  or  compass  their  end  by  craft,  and  secretly. 
While  they  hesitate  and  stand  measuring  the 
heartiness  of  the  crowd  in  Jesus'  favor,  and  con- 
sidering how  far  they  may  venture,  this  third 
parable  is  launched  against  them. 

The  object  of  it  is  still  the  same — to  set  in  a 
vivid  light  the  guilt  of  the  Jewish  leaders  in  re- 
jecting Christ,  and  the  punishment  which  in  con- 
sequence was  to  fall  upon  them  ;  but  to  this  third 
parable  an  appendix  is  added,  which  is  even  more 
186 


THE   MARRIAGE   OF   THE   KING'S    SON.      iS/ 

striking  than  the  parable  itself — an  appendix 
spoken,  as  we  shall  see,  rather  for  the  sake  of  the 
crowd  than  as  a  warning  to  the  Pharisees. 

Already  in  His  parables  our  Lord  had  com- 
pared the  kingdom  of  God  to  a  feast,  for  the  sake 
of  illustrating  the  rude,  discourteous,  and  mis- 
taken way  in  which  men  deal  with  God's  invita- 
tions. There  are  occasions  on  which  men  com- 
bine to  be  happy,  meet  for  the  understood  pur- 
pose of  enjoyment,  so  that  anything  which  inter- 
rupts or  represses  the  hilarity  of  the  company  is 
frowned  upon  as  out  of  place  and  inopportune. 
Matters  of  great  importance  are  postponed,  ques- 
tions requiring  much  gravity  in  their  discussion 
are  avoided,  anything  that  might  irritate  or 
slightly  annoy  or  discompose  any  single  guest  is 
excluded,  and,  in  short,  everything  is  arranged  to 
admit  of  free,  unrestrained  mirth.  And  when 
such  occasions  are  public,  he  who  refuses  to  join 
irTthe  national  festivity  is  looked  upon  as  a  traitor, 
and  he  who  has  private  griefs  is  expected  to  keep 
them  in  abeyance,  **  to  anoint  his  head  and  wash 
his  face  that  he  appear  not  unto  men  to  fast." 
Disloyalty  could  scarcely  assume  a  more  marked 
form  than  if  a  man  being  invited  to  share  the 
festal  joy  of  his  king  on  some  such  worthy  occa- 
sion as  that  here  adduced,  were  either  to  refuse 
the  invitation,  or,  accepting  it,  were  to  conduct 
himself  with  so  sullen  and  rude  a  demeanor  as  to 
show  that  his  feelings  were  quite  out  of  harmony 


1 88     THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

with  his  host's.  Such  a  man  would  be  at  once 
recognized  as  disaffected  and  a  rebel,  and  also  as 
a  rebel  who  had  chosen  a  singularly  unfortunate 
and  discourteous  mode  of  exhibiting  his  rebel- 
lion. 

But  the  speciality  of  this  parable  is  that  the 
feast  to  which  the  king  invites  His  subjects  is  a 
marriage  feast.  Prominence  is  given  to  the 
circumstance  that  the  host  is  a  king,  and  that 
the  occasion  of  the  feast  is  the  marriage  of  His 
Son. 

It  is  obvious  how  this  figure  was  suggested  to 
the  mind  of  Christ.  Long  before  His  time  the 
relation  between  husband  and  wife  had  been  used 
to  exhibit  the  devotedness  and  fidelity  with 
which  God  gives  Himself  to  men,  as  well  as  the 
intimacy  and  loving  care  to  which  He  admits 
them.  And  the  close  alliance  between  God  and 
men  which  was  thus  expressed,  was  actually  con- 
summated in  the  person  of  Jesus  Christ.  His 
assumption  of  humanity  into  perfect  union  with 
His  own  Divine  nature  was  the  actual  marriage 
of  God  and  man.  In  Him  God  and  man  are 
made  one — so  truly  and  perfectly  one,  that  where- 
as formerly  marriage  was  used  to  illustrate  this 
union,  now  this  union  stands  as  the  ideal  to  which 
marriage  may  aspire,  but  which  it  can  never 
reach.  It  is  a  union  which  has  the  characteristics 
of  marriage.  It  is  the  result  of  love  and  choice, 
not  of  nature  ;  and  it   implies  that   the  stronger 


THE   MARRIAGE   OF   THE   KING'S   SON.       1 89 

party  assume  the  responsibilities  and  watch  over 
the  interests  of  the  weaker.  The  marriage  is 
formed  that  the  stronger  party  may  have  fuller 
opportunity  to  help  and  serve  the  weaker.  God 
then  might  reasonably  expect  that  men  should, 
at  least  on  this  occasion,  recognize  that  God  and 
they  constituted  one  kingdom  and  cause.  Well 
might  He  expect  that  now,  at  least,  they  should 
rejoice  with  Him.  It  is  their  nature  that  is  seated 
on  the  throne,  their  rights  that  are  thus  secured, 
their  prosperity  that  is  thus  guaranteed.  And 
yet,  though  proclamation  had  been  made  of  the 
coming  festivities,  though  due  invitation  had  been 
given,  and  though,  finally,  John  had  been  sent  to 
say  that  now  all  things  were  ready  and  to  herald 
the  bridegroom  in  visible  form  through  their 
streets,  the  people  had  listened  with  dead  indiffer- 
ence, as  if  it  had  been  a  kingdom  in  the  moon 
that  was  spoken  of,  and  as  if  God  had  wholly  mis- 
taken in  supposing  that  such  an  event  had  any 
bearing  at  all  on  them  or  their  interests. 

This  union  of  God  and  man  that  is  as  natural 
as  love,  and  as  supernatural  as  God — this  union, 
consummated  in  Christ,  is  the  foundation  of  our 
hope.  Apart  from  this  we  may  find  some  little 
help  in  the  hour  of  temptation,  some  faint  glim- 
mering of  hope  in  the  time  of  trouble,  but  nothing 
that  can  quite  satisfy  and  bring  to  us  a  perfect 
light — nothing  that  can  give  us  God,  the  Highest 
of  all,  the   Eternal,  the   Almighty,  the  unfaiHng 


IQO  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

Love  and  Life.  Jesus  Christ  blesses  mankind  not 
by  His  superior  moral  teaching  mainly,  nor  only 
by  His  giving  us  a  clearer  knowledge  of  God  than 
other  teachers  have  done,  but  by  His  bringing 
God  into  human  life,  by  showing  us  our  God  suf- 
fering with  and  for  us,  by  bringing  God  to  work 
among  us  and  in  our  place,  and  thus  to  lift 
humanity,  by  a  power  Divine,  to  its  highest  level. 
It  is  by  bringing  thus  a  new  thing  into  the  world, 
the  fulness  of  God  into  human  life,  that  He  has 
done  that  which  no  one  but  He  could  do,  and 
which  merits  the  gratitude  of  every  man.  He 
has  thus  become  the  true  Bridegroom  of  men,  the 
joy  and  help  of  us  all.  That  was  a  memorable 
expression  of  Napoleon's  when  he  said,  *'  Jesus 
Christ  has  succeeded  in  making  of  every  human 
soul  an  appendage  to  His  own."  He  has  made 
Himself  the  indispensable  person  to  us  all — the 
indispensable  '*  fellow-worker  with  each  man  in 
the  realization  of  his  supreme  destiny." 

The  earnest  sincerity  of  God  in  seeking  our 
good  in  this  matter  is  illustrated  in  the  parable 
by  one  or  two  unmistakable  traits — first,  by  the 
king's  willing  observance  of  every  form  of  court- 
esy. Among  ourselves  there  are  certain  forms, 
an  etiquette,  which  a  host  who  is  anxious  to 
please  his  guests  is  careful  to  conform  to.  There 
are  ways  of  putting  an  invitation  which  make  it 
almost  impossible  even  for  the  reluctant  to  with- 
hold acceptance.     In  the  East  one  of  these  forms 


THE   MARRIAGE   OF   THE   KING's    SON.       I9I 

isjthe  sending^f  a  second  messenger  to  announce 
the  actual  readiness  of  the  feast.  In  countries 
where  no  memoranda  are  written,  and  where  no 
fixed  hours  are  observed  or  appointed,  such  a 
final  and  second  invitation  is  almost  necessary  ; 
or,  if  not  necessary,  does  at  least  pleasantly  dis- 
play the  cordiality  of  the  host.  To  this  form  God  1 
condescended.  He  not  only  sent  invitations  by' 
the  prophets,  bidding  the  Jews  expect  this  festiv- 
ity, but  when  it  was  ready  He  sent  John  to  re- 
mind them  and  to  bring  them.  So  it  is  always. 
Because  God  is  so  true  in  His  purpose  to  bless 
you,  therefore  is  He  most  careful  of  all  your  feel- 
ings, picking  each  smallest  stone  out  of  your  path 
that  might  cause  you  to  stumble  and  take  offense, 
leaving  the  reluctant  without  apology.  God  does 
not  invite  you  to  what  has  no  existence,  nor  to 
what  is  not  worth  going  so  far  to  get,  nor  on 
terms  it  is  impossible  to  fulfil,  nor  in  such  a  man- 
ner that  no  man  who  respects  himself  can  accept 
it.  On  the  contrary,  what  God  offers  you  is  that 
in  which  He  Himself  rejoices.  He  offers  you 
fellowship  with  His  own  Son,  He  offers  you 
righteousness  and  love,  and  He  offers  this  to  you 
with  the  observance  of  every  form  that  could 
prove  consideration  of  your  feelings,  and  in  a  way 
which  involves  that  every  one  who  really  wishes 
to  be  blessed  will  receive  all  the  help  he  requires 
in  striving  to  be  so.  Another  proof  of  the  earnest- 
ness of  God  in  His  invitation  is  His  wrath  against 


192  THE   PARABLES   OF  OUR   LORD. 

the  murderers  who  had  refused  it.  You  are  not 
much  offended  at  one  who  refuses  an  invitation 
you  have  given  in  jest,  or  for  form's  sake,  half 
hoping  it  would  not  be  accepted.  God  is  angry 
because  you  have  treated  in  jest  and  made  light 
of  what  has  been  most  earnest  to  Him  ;  because 
you  have  crossed  Him  in  the  sincerest  purpose  to 
bless  you  ;  because  after  He  has  at  the  greatest 
expense,  not  only  of  wealth  and  exertion,  but  of 
life,  provided  what  He  knows  you  need,  you  act 
towards  Him  as  if  He  had  done  nothing  that  de- 
serves the  least  consideration.  This  acceptance 
or  rejection  of  God's  offers  that  we  come  and 
talk  over,  often  as  if  the  whole  matter  were  in  our 
hands  and  we  might  deal  with  it  as  we  arrange 
for  a  journey  or  an  evening's  amusement,  is  to 
God  the  most  earnest  matter.  If  God  is  in 
earnest  about  anything,  it  is  about  this  ;  if  the 
whole  force  of  His  nature  concentrates  on  any 
one  matter  it  is  on  this  ;  if  anywhere  the  ampli- 
tude and  intensity  of  Divine  earnestness,  to 
which  the  most  impassioned  human  earnestness 
is  as  the  idle  vacant  sighing  of  the  summer  air, 
if  these  are  anywhere  in  action,  it  is  the  tender- 
ness and  sincerity  with  which  He  invites  you  to 
Himself.  There  may  be  nothing  so  trivial  as  to 
be  powerless  to  turn  you  from  God's  message, 
but  nothing  is  so  important  as  to  turn  Him  from 
seeing  how  you  receive  it.  You  may  think  His 
invitation  the  least  interesting  of  all  subjects,  you 


THE   MARRIAGE  OF  THE  KING'S   SON.      I93 

may  In  point  of  fact  scarcely  ever  seriously  con- 
sider whether  it  is  to  be  accepted  or  not,  whether 
it  is  an  invitation,  whether  you  might  act  upon 
it,  and  why  you  do  not — the  whole  matter  of 
God's  offer  to  you  may  be  unreal,  but  your  answer 
is  matter  of  God's  consideration,  and  nothing  can 
so  occupy  Him  as  to  turn  His  observation  from 
you.  No  glad  tidings  from  any  other  part  of  His 
government  can  so  fill  His  ear  as  to  drown  your 
sullen  refusal  of  His  grace.  To  save  sinners  from 
destruction  is  His  grand  purpose,  and  success  in 
other  parts  of  His  government  does  not  repay 
Him  for  failure  here.  And  to  make  light  of  such 
an  earnestness  as  this,  an  earnestness  so  wise, 
so  called  for,  so  loving,  pure,  and  long  suffering, 
so  Divine,  is  terrible  indeed.  To  have  been  the 
object  of  such  earnest  love,  to  have  had  all  the 
Divine  attributes  and  resources  set  in  motion  to 
secure  my  eternal  bliss,  and  to  know  myself  ca- 
pable of  making  light  (making  light !)  of  such  ear- 
nestness as  this,  this  surely  is  to  be  in  the  most 
forlorn  and  abject  condition  that  any  creature 
can  reach. 

The  last  scene  in  this  parable  comes  upon  us  un- 
expectedly, and  forms  indeed  an  appendix  intro- 
ducing a  new  lesson,  and  directed  to  a  special  sec- 
tion in  the  audience.  No  doubt  our  Lord  per- 
ceived that  parables  such  as  He  had  been  uttering 
were  open  to  misconstruction.  Ill-living  and  god- 
less persons,  coarse,  covetous,  and  malicious  men 
13 


194  THE' PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

might  be  led  to  fancy  that  it  mattered  very  little 
how  they  had  lived,  or  what  they  were.  They 
saw  that  the  gates  of  the  kingdom  were  thrown 
open,  that  all  indiscriminately  were  invited  to  en- 
ter, that  God  made  no  distinction,  saying  to  one, 
"  I  cannot  forget  your  former  neglect,"  to  another, 
"  I  do  not  wish  your  presence,"  to  a  third,  "  You 
are  too  far  gone  in  sin,  I  do  not  invite  you."  It 
had  been  made  quite  clear  to  them  by  these  par. 
ables  that  they  themselves  were  as  free  to  enter 
the  kingdom  as  those  religious  men  they  had 
been  accustomed  to  consider  so  much  more  in 
God's  favor  than  they  were.  This  perception  of 
the  absolute  unconditioned  freedom  of  entrance, 
this  sense  borne  in  upon  their  mind  that  they 
were  the  objects  of  God's  love  and  invitation, 
might  possibly  lead  them  to  overlook  the  great 
moral  change  requisite  in  all  who  enter  God's  pres^ 
ence  and  propose  to  hold  intercourse  with  Him. 
It  is  to  disabuse  them  of  the  idea  that  the  ac^ 
ceptance  of  God's  invitation  entails  no  alteration 
in  their  habits  and  spirit,  that  this  appendix  is 
added. 

This  object  is  gained  by  setting  before  them  an 
instance  in  which  one  who  accepted  the  invitation 
was  convicted  of  a  contempt  of  the  host  even 
greater  than  that  which  was  involved  in  rejecting 
his  invitation.  He  entered  the  banqueting  hall 
without  a  wedding  garment,  appeared  at  the 
King's  table  in  just  the  dress  in  which  he  had 


THE   MARRIAGE   OF   THE   KINg's   SON.       I95 

been  found  in  the  streets  by  the  servants.  But 
had  he  any  means  of  obtaining  a  dress  more  in 
keeping  with  the  occasion  ?  Was  he  not  perhaps 
a  man  so  poor  that  he  could  afford  no  preparation 
of  any  kind  ?  Had  this  been  so,  it  would  have 
been  pleaded  in  excuse.  But  no  doubt  the  par- 
able supposes  that  the  not  unusual  custom  of  pro- 
viding for  the  guests  the  needed  garment  had 
been  adopted  ;  a  provision  which  this  guest  had 
despised  and  refused ;  he  had  pushed  past  the 
officious  servants  who  would  have  clothed  him. 
It  is  this  that  constituted  the  man's  audacity  and 
guilt.  Similar  audacity  in  entering  the  king's 
presence  without  putting  on  the  robe  sent  by  the 
king  for  that  purpose,  has  been  known  to  cost  a 
prime  minister  his  life.  A  traveler  who  was  in- 
vited, with  the  ambassadors  he  accompanied,  to 
the  table  of  the  Persian  king,  says  : — "  We  were 
told  by  the  officer  that  we,  according  to  their 
usage,  must  hang  the  splendid  vests  that  were  sent 
us  from  the  king  over  our  dresses,  and  50  appear 
in  his  presence.  The  ambassadors  at  first  refused, 
but  the  officer  urged  it  so  earnestly,  alleging,  as 
also  did  others,  that  the  omission  would  greatly 
displease  the  king,  since  all  other  envoys  observed 
such  a  custom,  that  at  last  they  consented,  and 
hanged,  as  did  we  also,  the  splendid  vests  over 
their  shoulders."  So  at  this  marriage,  dresses  had 
been  provided  by  the  king.  The  guests  who  had 
been  picked  off  the  streets  were  not  told  to  go 


196  THE    PARABLES    OF   OUR    LORD. 

home  and  do  the  best  they  could  for  their  dress, 
but  in  the  palace,  in  the  vestibule  of  the  banquet- 
hall  each  man  was  arrayed  in  the  dress  the  king 
wished  to  see  worn. — Possibly  this  man  who  de- 
clined the  offered  garment  had  a  dress  of  his  own 
he  grudged  to  cover.  Possibly  he  thought  he  was 
as  well  dressed  as  need  be.  He  would  stroll  in 
superciliously  as  a  patron  or  spectator,  thinking  it 
very  fit  for  those  poor,  coarse-clothed  and  dirty 
people  to  make  use  of  the  king's  wardrobe,  but 
conscious  of  no  speck  nor  uncleanlinesss  in  his 
own  raiment  that  should  cause  him  to  make  any 
alteration  of  it. 

Neither  is  this  a  formal  and  artificial  custom 
representing  a  formal  and  artificial  method  of 
judging  men.  In  point  of  fact  this  rejection 
of  the  marriage-dress  is  proof  of  alienation  of 
spirit,  disaffection,  want  of  sympathy  with  the 
feelings  of  the  king.  The  man  who  could  refuse 
the  festive  dress  on  such  an  occasion  must  lack 
the  festive  spirit,  and  is  therefore  a  *'  spot  in  the 
feast."  It  is  a  real  and  internal,  not  a  merely  for- 
mal and  external  distinction  that  exists  between 
him  and  the  rest  of  the  guests.  He  sits  there  out 
of  harmony  with  the  spirit  of  the  occasion,  de- 
spising the  exultation  and  mirth  of  his  neighbors, 
and  disloyal  to  his  king.  Therefore  is  his  punish- 
ment swift  and  severe.  The  eye  of  the  king  that 
travels  round  the  tables  and  carries  welcome  and 
hearty  recognition,  gladdening  all  his  loyal  sub- 


THE   MARRIAGE    OF   THE   KING'S   SON.      I97 

jects,  is  suddenly  arrested  upon  this  unseemly, 
audacious,  unjustifiable  intruder.  As  every  guest 
turns  to  see  the  cause  of  the  changed  expression 
in  the  face  that  lights  up  the  whole  feast,  there 
with  head  that  would,  but  cannot,  hang,  with  hor- 
ror-stricken eye  riveted  upon  the  face  of  the  king, 
stands  the  despiser  of  the  wedding-garment — 
speechless — all  his(guilt  and  easy  confidence  gone, 
fearful  misgivings  sliding  into  his  heart,  quailing 
and  fainting  beneath  that  just  and  pitiful  eye  that 
empties  him  of  all  self-deceit,  of  all  self-con- 
fidence, of  all  untruth.  He  welcomes  the  attend- 
ants who  hurry  him  from  the  gaze  of  the  as- 
sembled guests  and  the  brilliant  lights  of  the  hall ; 
but  not  the  outer  darkness  of  an  Eastern  street, 
not  the  pitchy  blackness  in  which  he  lies  unseen 
and  helpless,  can  hide  him  from  that  gaze  of  His 
Lord  which  he  feels  to  be  imprinted  on  his  con- 
science for  evermore.  It  is  that  which  pursues 
him,  that  which  makes  him  outcast  from  all  con- 
solation and  all  hope,  that  he  has  alienated  his 
Lord,  has  been  branded  by  his  king,  has  forfeited 
the  approval  and  favor  of  Him  whose  recognition 
and  fellowship  carry  with  them  all  joy,  and  hope, 
and  blessing. 

Does  this  man's  conduct  signify  anything  to 
ourselves  ?  Does  his  doom  cover  any  great  truth 
that  concerns  ourselves  ?  How  idle  it  seems  to 
ask  the  question.  Is  there  any  commoner  way 
of  dealing  with  God's  invitation  than  that  which 


«98  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

this  man  adopted  ?  He  had  no  deep  love  for  his 
\  king,  no  grateful  and  humbling  sense  of  his  kind- 
ness, no  perception  of  what  was  due  to  him,  but 
with  the  blundering  stupidity  of  godlessness, 
thought  selfishness  would  carry  him  through,  and 
ran  right  upon  his  doom.  What  is  commoner 
than  this  self-complacency,  this  utter  blindness 
to  the  fact  that  God  is  holy,  and  that  holiness 
must  therefore  be  the  rule  everywhere ;  what  is 
commoner  than  the  feeling  that  we  are  well 
enough,  that  we  shall  somehow  pass  muster,  that 
as  we  mean  to  take  our  places  among  the  heavenly 
guests  we  shall  surely  not  be  ejected  ?  How  hard 
it  is  for  any  of  us  fully  to  grasp  the  radical  nature 
of  the  inward  change  that  is  required  if  we  are  to 
be  meet  for  the  inheritance  of  the  saints  in  light. 
Conformity  to  God,  ability  to  rejoice  with  God 
and  in  God,  humble  and  devoted  reverence,  a 
real  willingness  to  do  honor  to  the  King's  Son, 
these  are  great  attainments  ;  but  these  constitute 
our  wedding-garment,  without  which  we  cannot 
remain  in  His  presence  nor  abide  His  searching 
gaze.  It  will  come  to  be  a  matter  between  each 
one  of  you  singly  and  Him,  and  it  is  the  heart 
you  bear  towards  Him  that  will  determine  your 
destiny.  No  mere  appearance  of  accepting  His 
invitation,  no  associating  of  yourself  with  those 
who  love  Him,  no  outward  entrance  into  His  pres- 
ence, no  making  use  of  the  right  language  is  any- 
thing to  the  purpose.     What   is  wanted   is  a  pro- 


THE    MARRIAGE   OF   THE   KING'S   SON.      1 99 

found  sympathy  with  God,  a  real  deh'ght  in  what 
is  holy,  a  radical  acceptance  of  His  will,— in  other 
words,  and  as  the  most  untutored  conscience 
might  see,  what  is  wanted  is  a  state  of  minC-in 
you  which  God  can  delight  in,  and  approve  of, 
and  hold  fellowship  with.  To  His  table,  to  His 
everlasting  company,  to  Himself  and  His  love  He 
invites  you,  and  in  order  to  accept  this,  the  only 
invitation  He  gives  (for  there  are  no  degrees,  no 
outer  and  inner  circles,  no  servants  made  of  those 
who  will  not  be  friends) — in  order  to  accept  this 
invitation,  or  in  the  acceptance  of  it,  acceptance 
of  God,  of  His  spirit,  character,  and  ways  is 
necessary.  There  is  no  real  acceptance  of  the 
invitation,  no  abiding  entrance  into  God's  favor  | 
where  there  is  no  growing  likeness  to  God  ;  with- 
out  this  it  is  mere  word  and  self-deception. 
"  Know  ye  not  that  the  unjust  shall  not  inherit 
the  kingdom  of  God  ?  Be  not  deceived  :  neither 
fornicators,  nor  idolaters,  nor  adulterers,  nor 
effeminate,  nor  thieves,  nor  covetous,  nor  drunk- 
ards, nor  revilers,  nor  extortioners  shall  inherit 
the  kingdom  of  God." 

For  "  many  are  called,  but  few  chosen."  To 
all  of  us  the  invitation  comes  ;  there  is  no  man 
whom  God  does  not  desire  to  see  enjoying  His 
bounty.  There  is  no  question  about  the  invita-  , 
tion — you  have  it — good  and  bad  alike  are  invited, 
and  yet  even  among  those  who  seem  to  accept  it, 
there  is  sometimes  lacking  that  which  can   alone 


200  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

give  them  a  permanent  place  in  His  presence  and 
favor.  There  is  no  real  sympathy  with  God,  no 
pleasure  in  those  matters  which  He  deems  im- 
portant, no  similarity  of  spirit — in  a  word,  no  real 
goodness.  This  is  a  state  of  spirit  which  will  one 
day  develop  into  a  consciousness  that  we  have 
nothing  in  common  with  God. 

But,  in  conclusion,  there  is  abundant  encourage- 
ment in  this  parable  to  all  who  are  willing  and 
desirous  to  put  on  the  Lord  Jesus.  As  the  poor 
people  picked  up  by  the  servants  of  the  king 
would  have  felt  very  awkward  about  their  dress, 
and  could  not  in  decency  have  accepted  the  in- 
vitation had  they  not  been  assured  that  a  suitable 
dress  would  be  given  them ;  so  should  we  feel 
very  awkward  indeed,  if,  when  summoned  into 
God's  presence,  there  should  remain  in  us  any- 
thing to  make  us  feel  out  of  place,  uneasy, 
fearful.  But  the  invitation  itself  guarantees  the 
provision  of  all  that  follows  it.  It  is  the  first 
business  of  every  host  to  make  his  guest  feel  at 
home,  and  therefore  does  God  provide  us  not  only 
with  great  outward  blessings,  but  w^ith  all  that 
can  make  us  feel  easy  and  glad  in  His  presence. 
Fellowship  with  Him  is  indeed  reverential,  for 
He  is  our  King:  but  being  our  Father  there  will 
be  in  it  also  more  of  the  exuberant  delight  of  a 
family  gathering  than  of  the  stiffness  of  a  formal 
state  banquet  throughout  which  we  long  for  the 
termination,    or    are    hindered    from    all    enjoy- 


THE    MARRIAGE    OF   THE    KING'S    SON.      20I 

ment    through  fear  of  doing  something    out    of 
place. 

Though,  therefore,  there  are  many  called  but 
few  chosen,  there  is  no  reason  why  you  should 
not  be  among  the  few.  For  God  not  only  offers 
enjoyment,  but  also  power  to  enjoy.  If  you 
could  not  be  easy  in  God's  presence  without  great 
alterations  in  your  character,  these  alterations  will 
be  made.  The  bona  fide  invitation  is  your  guar- 
antee that  they  will  be  made.  If  you  could  not 
be  easy  in  God's  presence  without  knowing  that 
He  was  fully  aware  of  all  you  had  thought  and 
done  against  Him,  and  forgave  it  you  ;  if  you 
could  not  eat  at  the  table  of  one  against  whom 
you  harbored  ill-will  ;  if  you  could  not  enjoy  any- 
thing in  company  thoroughly  uncongenial,  whose 
conversation  was  all  of  subjects  quite  uninterest- 
ing to  you  ;  if  you  are  conscious  that  in  order  to 
enjoy  any  entertainment  the  prime  requisite  is 
that  you  have  a  genuine  admiration  and  love  for 
thehost — then  this  will  all  be  communicated  to  you 
on  your  acceptance  of  God's  invitation.  Do  you 
always  feel  that  God's  holiness  is  too  high  and 
distant  for  fellowship  ?  But  consider  how  Christ 
drew  men  and  women  to  Him.  No  one  ever 
created  such  a  passion  of  devoted  love  as  He. 
Consider  Him  and  you  will  at  length  learn  to 
think  more  wisely  of  holiness.  Are  you  conscious 
that  your  habitual  leanings  and  likings  are  earthly, 
that  as  yet  you  are  more  at  home  in  other  com- 


202  THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

panics  than  in  God's?  Does  your  unfitness  even 
more  than  your  unworthiness  deter  you — does 
your  want  of  ability  to  find  your  joy  in  God  alarm 
you  more  than  your  guilt  ?  Still  you  see  here 
that  God  invites  you  as  you  are,  and  those  whom 
He  casts  out  are  only  those  who  have  so  fond  a 
confidence  in  themselves  as  to  think  they  are  fit 
enough  for  His  presence  as  they  stand. 


THE  TEN  VIRGINS. 

Matt.  xxv.  1-13. 

The  prolonged  discourse  of  which  this  parable 
forms  a  striking  part  was  uttered  in  reply  to  a 
v^ery  natural  question  which  the  disciples  had  put 
to  our  Lord.  In  ignorance  of  what  was  chiefly 
engaging  His  thoughts,  and  in  simple-minded, 
rustic  admiration  of  the  metropolis,  they  had 
been  taking  Him  round  to  show  Him  the  marvels 
of  the  now  completed  temple.  And  well  might 
they  expect  to  hear  their  own  exclamations  of 
surprise  and  overwhelming  admiration  echoed 
from  every  one  who  in  their  day  ^'  walked  about 
Zion  "  and  marked  her  bulwarks,  or  gazed  on  the 
astounding  pile  of  marble  that  crowned  the  oppo- 
site summit  of  Moriah.  Buildings  of  similar 
magnificence  were  scarcely  elsewhere  to  be  seen. 
It  can  scarcely  have  been  with  cold  contempt  for 
those  stupendous  architectural  works,  but  rather 
with  deep  sorrow  and  compassion  that  our  Lord, 
after  silently  gazing  upon  them,  or  entering  with 
sympathy  into  the  enthusiasm  of  his  companions, 
at  last  let   fall  the  unexpected  word,  "  Verily  I 

say  unto  you  there  shall  not  be  left  here  one 

203 


204  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

stone  upon  another,  that  shall  not  be  thrown 
down."  It  was  inevitable  that  the  disciples 
should  eagerly  desire  to  know  when  this  catas- 
trophe was  to  occur.  "Tell  us  when  shall  these 
things  be,  and  what  shall  be  the  sign  of  Thy 
coming  and  of  the  end  of  the  world." 

Our  Lord's  reply  to  this  question  is,  that  the 
day  and  the  hour  of  His  corning  are  known  to 
the  Father  only,  and  that  therefore  the  only  way 
to  be  prepared  for  that  hour  is  to  be  always  ready, 
prepared  for  any  hour  and  every  hour.  This  is 
the  lesson  which  He  means  the  parable  to  con- 
vey, and  which  He  expressly  draws  in  the  words, 
"  Watch,  therefore,  for  ye  know  neither  the  day 
nor  the  hour  when  the  Son  of  man  cometh." 
And  we  must  beware  of  pressing  this  or  any  par- 
able to  say  more  than  it  was  meant  to  say.  We 
get  what  it  was  intended  to  give  when  by  its 
vivid  imagery  we  are  practically  aroused  to  the 
necessity  of  being  always  prepared  for  our  Lord's 
coming.  We  may  therefore  dismiss  a  great  deal 
of  minute  allegorizing  and  searching  for  hidden 
meanings  in  little  turns  of  expression  and  para- 
bolic accessories  with  the  words  of  one  of  the  Re- 
formers who  says,  *'  It  is  nothing  at  all  to  the 
purpose  to  speculate  and  refine  about  virginity 
and  lamps  and  oil  and  those  who  sell  oil.  These 
refined  speculations  are  the  trifles  of  allegorizers. 
But  the  one  idea  that  is  of  moment  is,  that  they 
who  are   really  prepared  shall  enter  into  the  joy 


THE  TEN  VIRGINS.  205 

of  the  Lord,  while  the  unprepared  shall  be  ex- 
cluded." Or  we  may  say  with  Calvin  himself: — 
'*  Some  expositors  torment  themselves  greatly  in 
explaining  the  lamps,  and  the  vessels,  and  the  oil ; 
but  the  simple  and  genuine  meaning  of  the  whole 
is  just  this,  that  it  is  not  enough  to  have  a  lively 
zeal  for  a  while.  We  must  have  in  addition  a 
perseverance  that  never  tires." 

Neither  need  we  spend  time  on  the  customs 
from  which  the  parable  draws  its  imagery.  Let  it 
sufifice  to  read  the  words  of  one  of  the  most  ac- 
curate describers  of  what  is  to  be  seen  in  India. 
"  At  a  marriage,"  he  says,  '*  the  procession  of 
which  I  saw  some  years  ago,  the  bridegroom  came 
from  a  distance,  and  the  bride  lived  at  Serampore, 
to  which  place  the  bridegroom  was  to  come  by 
water.  After  waiting  two  or  three  hours,  at 
length,  near  midnight,  it  was  announced,  as  if  in 
the  very  words  of  Scripture,  **  Behold  the  bride- 
groom Cometh,  go  ye  out  to  meet  him."  All  the 
persons  employed  now  lighted  their  lamps,  and 
ran  with  them  in  their  hands  to  fill  up  their 
stations  in  the  procession.  Some  of  them  had 
lost  their  lights,  and  were  unprepared  ;  but  it  was 
then  too  late  to  seek  them,  and  the  cavalcade 
moved  forward  to  the  house  of  the  bride,  at  which 
place  the  company  entered  a  large  and  splendidly 
illuminated  area  before  the  house  covered  with  an 
awning,  where  a  great  multitude  of  friends,  dressed 
in  their  best   apparel,   were   seated    upon    mats. 


206  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

The  bridegroom  was  carried  in  the  arms  of  a 
friend,  and  placed  upon  a  superb  seat  in  the  midst 
of  the  company,  where  he  sat  a  short  time,  and 
then  went  into  the  house,  the  door  of  which  was 
immediately  shut,  and  guarded  by  sepoys.  I  and 
others  expostulated  with  the  doorkeepers,  but  in 
vain.  Never  was  I  so  struck  with  our  Lord's 
beautiful  parable  as  at  this  moment :  and  the  door 
was  shut!' 

This  imagery  so  familiar  to  our  Lord's  hearers 
was  used  on  this  occasion  to  illustrate  chiefly 
these  three  things:  the  meaning  of  our  Lord's 
command  to  watch ;  its  reason  ;  and  the  means  of 
fulfilling  it.  It  illustrates  the  meaimig  of  the 
command  ;  showing  us  that  it  does  not  mean, ''  Be 
ye  always  on  the  watch,"  but  "  Be  always  pre-< 
pared."  The  fisherman's  wife  who  spends  her 
time  on  the  pier-head  watching  for  the  boats, 
cannot  be  so  well  prepared  to  give  her  husband 
a  comfortable  reception  as  the  woman  who  is 
busy  about  her  household  work,  and  only  now 
and  again  turns  a  longing  look  seaward.  None 
of  the  virgins  were  on  the  watch  for  the  bride- 
groom, but  some  of  them  were  nevertheless  pre- 
pared for  His  coming.  It  is  impossible  for  us  to 
be  always  looking  out  for  the  coming  of  Christ, 
but  it  is  quite  possible  to  be  prepared  for  His 
coming.  Our  life  is  to  bear  evidence  that  one  of 
the  things  we  take  into  account  is  the  approach 
of  our  Lord. 


THE   TEN   VIRGINS.  20/ 

2.  It  illustrates  also  the  r^<a;i'^;2  of  the  command. 
No  one  can  tell  when  this  second  great  interrup- 
tion of  the  world's  even  course  is  to  take  place. 
It  may  be  nearer  than  some  expect  ;  or  as  the 
parable  shows,  it  may  be  more  distant  than  some 
expect.  The  expectation  of  a  speedy  termination 
of  things  which  so  largely  prevailed  in  the  first 
Christian  generation  might  have  been  moderated 
by  the  wide  circulation  of  this  parable.  The 
virgins  who  neglected  to  carry  reserve-flasks  of 
oil  were  those  who  expected  the  bridegroom  would 
soon  appear.  They  did  not  anticipate  a  long 
delay  ;  they  made  no  provision  for  continuance. 
Had  the  hour  been  a  fixed  one  they  would  have 
been  prepared,  but  they  were  betrayed  by  its  un< 
certainty.  And  no  doubt  if  any  one  could  say 
with  authority, ''  The  Lord  is  to  come  on  Tuesday 
first,"  a  very  large  number  of  persons  would  at 
once  prepare  as  best  they  could  to  meet  Him. 
If  the  belief  really  grew  up  within  them  that  on 
a  certain  day  not  far  distant  they  must  face  their 
Lord,  that  belief  would  certainly  produce  a  mul- 
titude of  thoughts,  and  some  efforts  at  prepara^ 
tion.  It  is,  then,  after  all,  your  baseless  sup, 
position  that  the  Lord  will  not  come  quickly  that 
betrays  you  into  carelessness.  This  parable  as. 
sures  you  you  have  no  ground  for  saying,  "  My 
Lord  delayeth  His  coming."  You  really  do  not 
know  how  near  He  is. 

And  if  any  one  feels,  "  Well,  this  then  comes 


208  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

to  no  more  than  an  appeal  to  fear.  The  appeal 
made  by  the  parable  is  grounded  on  the  assump- 
tion that  Christians  will  be  better  men,  and  do 
more  if  they  expect  to  be  quickly  summoned  into 
Christ's  presence," — if  this  be  felt,  it  can  only  be 
said  in  reply  that  fear  is  in  many  circumstances 
the  equivalent  of  prudence,  and  a  very  wholesome 
motive;  and  further,  that  the  expectation  of 
Christ's  coming  does  not  give  rise  only  to  fear,  but 
also  to  hope  ;  that  it  braces  the  Christian's  energies, 
and  in  accordance  with  human  nature  quickens 
the  spiritual  life.  Or  if  any  one  feels  that  to  have 
stimulated  all  past  generations  with  the  expecta- 
tion of  an  event  which  did  not  after  all  occur,  is 
artificial  and  unworthy,  it  should  be  enough  to 
reflect  that  the  beneficial  system  of  insurance 
proceeds  on  principles  to  a  large  extent  similar. 

3.  The  parable  shows  us  how  we  are  to  prepare 
for  meeting  the  Lord.  We  are  to  be  prepared 
to  join  in  the  festal  celebration  of  His  coming. 
We  are  to  be  in  a  position  to  join  with  those  who 
add  luster  to  His  presence,  who  give  Him  a  hearty 
welcome,  and  who  enter  with  Him  into  His  joy. 
We  are  prepared  for  His  coming  if  we  are  in  the 
spirit  of  the  occasion,  and  if  we  are  furnished  with 
what  may  fit  us  for  suitably  appearing  in  His 
company.  The  lamps  of  the  virgins  were  meant 
to  lend  brilliancy  to  the  scene  ;  they  were  intended 
as  a  festal  illumination.  The  virgins  whose  lamps 
burned  brightly  were  not    ashamed    to  be  seen 


THE  TEN  VIRGINS.  209 

forming  part  of  the  bridal  company.  They  were 
in  keeping  with  it.  Conscience  will  tell  us  what 
numbers  us  among  the  wise  or  among  the  foolish. 
Everything  in  us  that  heartily  welcomes  Christ's 
presence,  and  heartily  rises  to  do  Him  honor  ; 
everything  about  us  that  can  reflect  any  brightness 
or  glory  on  Him  ;  everything  that  makes  us  better 
than  blots  and  blacknesses  in  His  retinue ;  every- 
thing that  Avill  seem  a  suitable  accompaniment  in 
the  triumph  of  a  holy  Redeemer,  is  a  preparation 
for  Christ's  coming. 

/The  parable  is  not  addressed  to  those  who  have 
never  made  any  preparation  for  Christ's  coming, 
but  to  those  who  have  not  made  sufficient  prep- 
aration.y  It  reminds  us  that  all  who  may  at  one 
time  show  similar  preparedness  for  Christ's  pres- 
ence do  not  in  the  end  show  the  same.  Of  those 
who  start  with  similar  intentions  and  similar  ex- 
ternal appearance  a  number  fail  to  fulfil  their  orig- 
inal intention,  and  in  the  end  belie  their  promising 
appearance.  It  is  the  same  everywhere  :  in  severe 
marches,  prolonged  and  fatiguing  enterprises  and 
labors,  a  number  always  tail  off  and  are  not  forth- 
coming at  the  final  muster.  The  number  who 
at  any  period  of  their  life  really  go  forth  to  meet 
their  Lord,  delighting  to  do  Him  honor  and 
seeking  His  presence,  may  not  be  very  large  ;  but 
it  is  much  larger  than  the  number  who  maintain 
their  preparedness  to  the  end.  The  reason  of 
this  so  frequent  failure  is  here  declared.  The  folly 
14 


2IO  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

of  the  foolish  virgins  consisted  In  this,  that  while 
the  wise  took  oil,  they  took  none:  that  is  to  say, 
made  no  provision  against  any  delay  in  the  time 
of  the  Bridegroom's  appearance.  They  lit  their 
lamps,  but  made  no  provision  for  feeding  them  : 
the  flame  was  to  all  appearance  satisfactory,  but 
the  source  of  it  was  defective.  And  without 
running  the  figure  too  hard,  we  may  say  that 
those  who  In  the  end  of  their  life  fail  to  show  as 
much  fitness  for  Christ's  presence  as  they  did  at 
some  previous  period,  fail  because  they  have  been 
all  along  superficial  and  have  never  been  filled 
with  grace  at  the  source,  have  not  had  the  root  of 
the  matter  in  them. 

The  foolish  virgins,  then,  are  a  warning  to  all 
who  are  tempted  to  make  conversion  everything, 
edification  nothing ;  who  cultivate  religion  for  a 
season  and  then  think  they  have  done  enough ; 
who  were  religious  once,  can  remember  the  time 
when  they  had  very  serious  thoughts,  and  very 
solemn  resolutions,  but  who  have  made  no  earnest 
effort,  and  are  making  none,  to  maintain  within 
themselves  the  life  they  once  began.  The  wise  are 
those  who  recognize  that  they  must  have  within 
them  that  which  shall  enable  them  to  endure  to 
the  end — not  only  impressions,  right  Impulses, 
tender  feelings,  but  Ineradicable  beliefs  and  prin- 
ciples which  will  at  all  times  produce  all  right 
impulse  and  feeling.  It  is  not  in  vain  that  our 
nature  is  made  as  it  is  made.     In  body  and  soul 


THE   TEN   VIRGINS.  2X1 

things  are  so  ordered  that  one  part  aids  and  feeds 
another  part.  Without  a  good  digestion  no  other 
function  can  be  thoroughly  well  performed  ;  as 
well  performed  as  it  might  be.  And  in  our  spirit- 
ual nature,  our  feelings  and  impulses  are  nour- 
ished by  our  beliefs  and  perceptions.  If  we  recog- 
nize the  truth,  if  we  have  come  to  an  assured  and 
settled  conviction  that  Christ  has  lived,  and  that 
He  now  lives,  if  our  perceptions  and  beliefs  are 
bringing  us  in  contact  with  the  truth,  with  Christ, 
and  with  things  unseen,  then  we  may  expect  to 
continue  to  the  end. 

Another  point  may  be  accepted  from  this  part 
of  the  Parable :  that  there  must  be  regard  paid 
both  to  the  outward  and  inward  life.  The  vessel 
of  oil  is  not  enough  without  the  burning  lamp  ; 
nor  the  lamp  merely  lighted  and  with  no  supply 
of  oil.  There  is  a  something  which  makes  you 
worthy  of  entering  with  Christ  into  lasting  joy. 
And  this  something  is  not  an  exhibition  of  the 
external  marks  of  a  Christian,  neither  is  it  the 
certainty  that  once  you  had  inward  grace ;  but  it 
is  the  continuous  maintenance,  to  the  end,  both 
of  the  outward  works  which  manifest,  and  of  the 
inward  graces  which  are  the  life  of  a  Christian. 
The  inward  life  of  the  soul  and  the  outward  ex- 
pression of  that  life  bear  to  one  another  an  es- 
sential relation.  On  the  one  hand,  if  you  do  not 
constantly  renew  your  supply  of  grace,  if  you  do 
not  carefully  see  to  the  condition  of  your  own 


212  THE  PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

spirit,  your  good  works  will  soon  become  less  fre- 
quent, less  sincere,  and  less  lovely :  your  flame 
will  burn  low.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  if  you 
tend  only  the  life  of  your  own  soul,  if  you  seek 
only  to  possess  as  much  grace  as  possible  for 
yourself,  if  you  ask  for  the  Holy  Spirit  and  yet 
do  none  of  those  things  in  which  the  Spirit  would 
naturally  express  Himself,  if  you  do  not  let  your 
light  shine  before  and  upon  men  in  the  actual 
circumstances  you  are  placed  in,  then  you  will 
soon  find  that  your  internal  life  begins  to  stag- 
nate and  corrupt. 

To  a  healthy  Christian  life  these  two  things 
are  essential.  A  vessel  of  oil  is,  in  itself,  of  no 
use  on  a  dark  night.  The  oil  is  not  light,  and 
might  as  well  be  water  unless  a  light  be  added. 
And  a  burning  wick  which  lasts  only  for  half  a 
minute,  is  only  disappointing  and  tantalizing.  A 
Christian  must  not  only  feel  right  but  do  right; 
and  must  not  only  do  right  but  feel  right.  To 
be  filled  with  the  Spirit  you  have  but  to  pray. 
You  cannot  manufacture  nor  create  that  which 
can  sustain  your  spiritual  life:  God  only  can  give 
it,  and  give  it  He  does,  gladly  and  liberally,  in 
answer  to  your  requests.  And  having  the  Spirit 
you  must  use  Him  ;  letting  your  light  shine  not 
so  as  to  show  yourself  more  conspicuously,  but 
so  as  to  help  on  others  in  their  dark  and  doubt- 
ful way  through  this  life  ;  by  dealing  fairly  with 
them,  by   being   generous   and    considerate,   by 


THE  TEN  VIRGINS.  213 

doing  the  best  you  can  for  every  one  you  have 
to  do  with  in  any  capacity. 

This  is  the  reason  why  many  of  us  feel  slightly 
jarred  in  spirit  when  we  hear  converts  rising  in  a 
confession-meeting  one  after  another  and  saying, 
"  I  was  saved  last  Wednesday  night,"  "  I  was 
saved  on  the  i8th  February,"  "I  was  saved  on 
the  I2th  March,"  and  so  on.  It  is  not  that  we 
do  not  believe  that  they  are  speaking  the  truth, 
but  that  we  know  that  they  have  yet  to  be  tested 
by  life.  We  rejoice  with  them  because  they  have 
found  their  Saviour  ;  we  tremble  for  them  be- 
cause we  know  that  they  have  yet  to  work  out 
their  own  salvation  through  years  of  temptation. 
All  that  their  confession  means  is,  that  their  lamp 
is  lit,  but  how  long  it  will  burn  is  quite  another 
question.  They  are  merely  in  the  condition  of 
the  ten  virgins  as  they  first  went  out,  and  only 
time  can  show  whether  they  have  oil  or  not. 
They  may  have  been  able  to  rejoice  in  Christ  at 
a  given  hour  last  week  or  last  month,  and  may 
at  that  hour  have  risen  to  greet  Him,  and  there 
is  nothing  wrong  in  their  declaring  that  such  has 
been  the  case  :  but  their  trial  has  yet  to  take 
place  ;  it  has  yet  to  be  discovered  whether,  when 
many  years  have  passed,  they  shall  still  be  found 
rejoicing  in  Him.  For  in  many  cases  it  would 
appear  as  if  conversion  and  salvation  were  looked 
upon  as  equivalents :  in  many  cases  there  is  a 
lack  of   soberminded  counting  of  the  cost,  and  a 


214  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

jubilation  of  spirit  which  would  be  more  becom- 
ing at  the  close  of  the  long  fight  of  faith  than  at 
its  commencement.  You  may  say  you  are  saved 
when  you  fairly  put  yourself  into  Christ's  hand  ; 
but  you  must  also  remember  that  then  your  sal- 
vation is  only  beginning,  and  that  you  cannot, 
in  the  fullest  sense,  say  you  are  saved  until  Christ 
has  wrought  in  you  a  perfect  conformity  to  Him- 
self. 

This  being  the  distinction  between  the  wise  and 
foolish  virgins,  that  which  brings  it  to  light  is 
that  the  Bridegroom  did  not  come  while  all  the 
lamps  were  yet  burning,  and  that  during  His 
delay  they  all  slumbered  and  slept.  This  seems 
to  mean  no  more  than  that  all,  having  made  such 
preparation  as  they  judged  sufficient  '^calmly  and 
securely  waited  the  approach  of  the  Bridegroom." 
There  can  scarcely  be  any  more  than  this  meant 
by  the  sleep  ;  nothing  which  would  make  the 
sleep  culpable  on  the  part  of  the  wise,  for  we  do 
not  find  that  any  evil  consequence  whatever  fol- 
lowed to  them  ;  rather  they  would  be  all  the 
fresher  for  their  rest,  the  better  prepared  to  enter 
on  the  joy.  But  the  security  which  is  excusable, 
and  the  repose  which  is  necessary  to  one  condi- 
tion, is  in  another  utter  madness.  Unconstrained 
mirth,  eager  pursuit  of  business,  is  one  thing  in 
the  man  who  has  just  examined  his  books  and 
made  arrangements  to  meet  all  claims,  but  it  is 
quite  another  thing  in  him  who  has  made  no  such 


THE   TEN  VIRGINS.  21$ 

arrangements  and  does  not  know  whether  he  can 
meet  his  engagements.  So  it  is  one  thing  to  turn 
away  your  attention  from  the  person  and  coming 
of  Christ  when  you  have  made  sure  you  are  pre- 
pared to  meet  Him,  and  altogether  another  thing 
to  turn  your  attention  to  other  things  in  mere 
thoughtless  security.  It  is  one  thing  to  engage 
in  the  business  of  this  life,  knowing  that  though 
your  Lord  find  you  in  it,  you  have  what  will 
enable  you  to  meet  Him,  the  graces  then  required 
being  really  in  you  and  ready  to  show  themselves, 
though  not  at  present  called  into  exercise  by  the 
calculation,  or  the  plan,  or  the  work  you  are  en- 
gaged in  for  the  hour ;  but  it  is  wholly  another 
thing  to  plunge  into  the  world's  business  without 
having  once  considered  whether  you  have  given 
sufficient  attention  to  your  preparedness  for  that 
event  which  may  interrupt  any  day's  business,  or 
without  keeping  up  a  constant  examination  of 
the  inward  life  of  your  spirit. 

But  we  may  learn  from  the  slumber  of  the  wise, 
as  well  as  from  the  rash  sleep  of  the  foolish.  There 
is  a  kind  of  sleep  in  which  the  sense  of  hearing, 
at  least,  is  on  the  alert,  and  when  by  a  skilful  dis- 
crimination unattainable  when  awake,  the  sense 
takes  note  only  of  the  one  sound  it  waits  for,  so 
that  the  sound  of  a  distant  and  watched-for  foot- 
step arouses  to  the  keenest  wakefulness.  If  you 
look  on  these  weary,  slumbering  virgins,  you  see 
the  lamps  firmly  grasped,  and  when  you  try  to 


2l6  THE  PARABLES   OF  OUR  LORD. 

unclasp  the  slumbering  but  faithful  fingers,  every 
faculty  is  at  once  on  the  alert.  Other  noises  do 
not  awaken  them,  but  before  the  cry,  ''  The  Bride- 
groom cometh  "  has  ceased  to  echo  in  the  porch 
that  shelters  them,  they  stand  erect  and  are  trim- 
ming their  lamps.  So  should  it  be  with  us ; 
whatever  necessary  occupation,  whatever  neces- 
sary saturation  of  our  minds  with  the  thoughts  of 
this  world's  property,  turns  our  direct  attention 
from  the  approach  of  our  Lord,  there  should  still 
be  an  openness  of  sense  in  His  direction,  a  settled 
persuasion  that  it  is  His  voice  that  must  be  heark- 
ened to,  a  predisposedness  to  attend  rather  to 
Him  if  He  should  call,  an  inwrought  though  latent 
expectation  of  His  coming,  a  consciousness,  which 
but  a  whisper  will  arouse,  that  what  we  are  here 
for  is  not  to  slumber,  not  to  do  what  we  might  as 
well  or  better  do  anywhere  else  and  with  no  hope 
of  our  Lord's  coming,  but  still  to  meet  Him. 
Through  all  the  sleep  of  these  virgins,  dream 
would  be  chasing  dream,  they  would  be  seeing 
bridal  processions,  gorgeous  with  all  the  gay  and 
fantastic  adornment  which  the  closed  eye  so  clearly 
sees,  hearing  sackbut  and  dulcimer  and  all  kinds 
of  music,  and  ever  and  anon  starting  to  hear  if 
the  cry,  "  The  Bridegroom  cometh  "  were  not  real 
and  summoning  themselves.  So  through  all  the 
occupations  of  a  Christian  in  which  he  is  not 
watching  for  his  Lord  and  trimming  his  lamp, 
there  is,  or  should  be,  an  under-current  of  expec- 


THE   TEN  VIRGINS.  217 

tation,  ever  keeping  him  in  unconscious  prepared, 
ness,  occasionally  roused  into  actual  looking  out 
to  see.  He  is  not  always  gazing  forward,  but  ever 
and  anon  sends  a  messenger  from  the  inmost 
citadel  of  his  soul  to  inquire,  "  Watchman,  what 
of  the  night  ?  " 

While  they  are  thus  all  slumbering,  and  when 
their  sleep  is  deepest,  when  the  fatigue  of  watching 
is  most  felt,  when  things  are  stillest,  and  men  count 
upon  a  few  hours  quiet  and  deliverance  from  care, 
"  at  midnight,"  the  cry  is  heard,  "  Behold,  the 
Bridegroom  cometh  !  "  And  now  the  difference 
between  the  really  and  apparently  prepared  is 
manifested.  There  is  something  terrible  in  the 
security  of  the  foolish  maintained  up  to  the  last. 
They,  too,  arise  and  trim  their  lamps ;  even 
though  there  is  nothing  but  a  quenched,  foul  wick 
yet  they  seem  to  thinkstillthat  matters  are  not  so 
bad.  They  have  but  to  ask  oil  of  their  pleasant 
companions.  Not  yet  are  they  aware  that  their 
fate  is  already  sealed.  And  this  sudden  and  ap- 
palling reversal  of  their  hopes,  this  mingling  at  a 
marriage  feast  of  exultant  joy  and  the  most  mel- 
ancholy and  calamitous  ruin,  seems  intended  to 
fix  in  our  minds  an  idea  opposite  to,  and  that 
should  extirpate  the  idle  fancy  that  things  some- 
how will  come  all  right  ;  that  there  is  no  real  need 
of  all  this  urgent  warning  and  watching ;  that  in 
a  world  governed  by  a  good  and  loving  God,  and 
where  things  are  going  on  now  pretty  tolerably 


2l8  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

and  so  very  prosaically,  there  cannot  occur  those 
startling,  unnatural,  desolating  events  predicted 
in  God's  word.  It  seems  so  fearful  and  incredible 
a  thing  that  a  world  men  take  so  lightly  and  joy- 
ously should  be  quietly  leading  them  on  to  eternal 
ruin,  that  men  maintain  their  easy  disposition  to 
the  last,  and  cannot  believe  that  out  of  a  life  that 
may  be  jested  or  trifled  away,  consequences  so 
lasting  and  so  awful  can  possibly  flow.  Many 
things  are  needed  to  drive  this  security  out  of  us, 
and  many  things  are  given  us  for  this  end.  The 
virgins  go  out  with  no  thought  but  of  festivity, 
enjoyment,  and  happy  excitement;  five  of  them, 
before  the  night  is  gone,  are  found  and  left  in  the 
bitterest  sorrow  and  self-reproach.  "  They  that 
were  ready  went  in  to  the  marriage,  and  the  door 
was  shut." 

In  these  words  one  seems  to  hear  the  decisive, 
final  doom  of  the  lost.  The  crash  of  the  heavy 
dungeon  door  and  the  retiring  footsteps  are  not 
more  sickening  to  the  heart  of  him  that  is  left  to 
die  of  hunger,  than  the  heavy,  sudden  closing  of 
this  door  that  shuts  in  the  saved  and  shuts  out 
the  lost.  As  the  feeling;  of  comfort  insYtle.  the 
house  increases  when  the  storm  howls  around  and 
shakes  it,  as  if  seeking  an  entrance  that  it  cannot 
find,  so  does  the  misery  of  those  left  outside  in- 
crease when  they  hear  the  sound  of  revelry  and 
mirth,  and  see  the  warm  lights  thrown  out  on  the 
darkness.     They  look   round  despairingly  as  the 


THE   TEN   VIRGINS.  219 

storm  begins  to  rise,  as  the  first  moan  of  the 
gathering  tempest  nears  and  h'ghts  upon  them, 
and  warns  them,  as  if  in  pity,  of  the  blasts  that 
follow  as  if  in  anger.  But  once  the  door  is  shut 
no  piteous  clamor  outside  can  open  it.  No  sense 
of  the  awful  state  of  things  outside,  no  willing- 
ness now  to  be  within,  avails  to  force  it  back 
upon  its  hinges.  Every  voice  that  wails  for  en- 
trance is  still  met  by  the  same  chilling,  hopeless 
reply,  ''  I  know  you  not."  A  new  thing  it  is  for 
that  door  to  be  shut.  So  long  has  it  stood  open, 
thrown  wide  back,  that  we  forget  there  is  a  door 
that  can  shut  that  entrance ;  that  it  is  not  more 
useful  now  to  let  in,  than  one  day  to  keep  out. 
But  the  time  comes  when  whosoever  will  shall  not 
be  saved  ;  when  it  will  be  vain  pointing  men  to 
the  door ;  when  whosoever  is  outside,  there  re- 
mains. And  this  time  may  be  before  you  rise 
from  where  you  now  sit.  No  man  can  say  it  shall 
not.  He  who  feels  it  most  unfair  to  be  hedged 
up  thus  to  an  hour,  to  be  told  it  is  unsafe  and  un- 
reasonable to  delay  even  so  long,  cannot  assert 
that  the  end  is  further  distant.  To-day  the  door 
is  open,  to-morrow  it  may  be  too  late  to  seek  en- 
trance. The  hand  that  closes  it  may  already  be 
laid  upon  it. 

It  is  foolishness,  not  wickedness,  that  is  repre- 
hended in  these  virgins — that  is  to  say,  in  those 
who  are  represented  by  them.  The  wise  man  is 
he  who  shapes  his  conduct  in  accordance  with  the 


220  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

truth  of  things  and  with  actual  facts ;  the  foolish 
man  is  he  who  shuts  his  eyes  to  what  he  does  not 
wish  to  see,  and  fancies  that  somehow,  though  he 
can't  tell  how,  things  will  go  all  right  with  him. 
He  is,  in  fact,  the  ostrich  who  buries  his  head  in 
the  sand  and  fancies  he  has  escaped  because  he 
has  shut  his  eyes  to  what  is  hostile.  The  man 
who  makes  no  preparation  for  the  future  is  a 
foolish  man.  He  may  explain  it  to  himself  as  he 
pleases,  but  to  attempt  an  explanation  is  only  to 
give  further  proof  of  his  foolishness.  He  may 
see  his  way  with  perfect  clearness  a  few  paces 
before  him,  but  if  he  does  not  see  where  it  is  to 
end,  how  can  he  tell  whether  he  ought  to  go  on 
even  these  few  paces  ?  The  man  who  does  not 
think,  who  does  not  consider  whether  he  is  pre- 
pared for  the  future  or  not,  who  does  not  seri- 
ously measure  himself  by  every  standard  he  can 
think  of,  and  especially  by  the  inevitable  require- 
ments of  God  and  eternity,  is  a  foolish  man.  He 
may  be  clever,  brilliant  in  talk  and  very  enter- 
taining in  company, he  maybe  useful  in  business, 
he  may  be  well-meaning,  but  he  is  foolish — has 
none  of  that  wisdom  which  consists  in  seeing 
things  as  they  actually  are,  and  in  conforming 
oneself  to  them.  The  man  who  at  this  present 
time  is  in  point  of  fact  leaving  it  to  mere  chance 
whether  he  is  to  be  saved  or  lost,  must  surely 
feel  that  he  is  profoundly  foolish. 

Let  us  then  meet  Christ's  intention  in  tha  par- 


THE    TEN   VIRGINS.  221 

able,  and  see  that  for  our  part  we  are  prepared  for 
His  coming.  Let  us  make  sure  that  the  little 
flame  once  kindled  is  not  already  burning  low. 
Let  us  be  sure  that  we  are  living  in  constant  \ 
communication  with  the  source  of  all  spiritual 
life  ;  that  the  very  spirit  of  Christ  dwells  in  us 
richly.  Is  there  one  who  feels  that  things  are 
not  with  him  as  they  ought  to  be,  and  that  he 
has  declined  from  the  glad  preparedness  he  once 
enjoyed,  or  even  that  he  has  never  attained  to  a 
state  in  which  any  luster  could  be  thrown  by  him 
on  the  redeeming  grace  of  Christ  ?  To  this  per- 
son Christ  speaks  the  parable.  It  is  you  He  longs 
to  see  providing  yourself  with  the  material  of 
everlasting  goodness  and  everlasting  joy.  There 
is  a  Spirit  ofTered  you  through  whom  you  can 
become  pure  and  loving,  capable  of  good,  at  peace 
with  yourself  and  with  God.  What  response  do 
you  make  to  Christ's  offers  ?  Are  you  to  turn  away 
and  let  it  be  possible  that  the  next  summons  you 
hear  may  be  :  "  Behold  the  Bridegroom  cometh, 
go  ye  out  to  meet  Him  ?  " 


THE  TALENTS. 

Matt.  xxv.  14-30. 

This  parable  illustrates  the  great  principle 
which  regulates  the  distribution  of  rewards  and 
punishments  in  the  kingdom  of  God — the  prin- 
ciple that  men  shall  be  judged  according  to  the 
means  at  their  disposal.  The  '*  talents  "  repre- 
sent everything  over  and  above  natural  ability,  by 
which  men  can  advance  the  interests  of  the  king- 
dom ;  position,  opportunities,  and  especially  the 
measure  of  grace  given  to  each  man.  All  the 
interests  of  Christ  upon  earth  are  entrusted  to  His 
people.  He  has  distributed  among  us  all  that 
He  values  upon  earth.  Destroy  from  earth  what 
men  have  and  enjoy,  and  all  that  Christ  prizes  is 
gone.  There  is  no  interest  of  His  carried  for- 
ward without  human  labor  ;  if  His  servants  all 
cease  to  work,  His  cause  on  earth  is  at  an  end. 
And  every  servant  of  His  is  endowed  with  means 
enough  to  accomplish  his  own  share  in  Christ's 
work.  He  may  not  have  as  much  as  others. 
But  to  be  fair,  there  must  be  little  put  in  the 
hands  of  the  servant  who  can  only  make  use  of  a 
little,  and  much  put  at  the  disposal  of  him  who 

222 


THE   TALENTS.  22$ 

can  manage  a  large  amount.  It  is  as  easy — you 
may  say — to  make  ten  talents  out  of  five,  as  to 
make  four  out  of  two  ;  perhaps  easier.  Yes,  if 
you  choose  the  right  man,  but  mxany  a  man  who 
could  make  a  small  business  pay,  would  ruin  him- 
self in  a  big  one.  Each  gets  what  each  can  con- 
veniently and  effectively  handle ;  and  no  one  is 
expected  to  produce  results  which  are  quite  out 
of  proportion  to  his  ability  and  his  means. 

And  in  order  that  the  judgment  may  be  fair, 
the  reckoning  is  not  made  until  "after  a  long 
time."  We  are  not  called  upon  to  show  fruit  be- 
fore autumn.  The  servants  are  not  summoned 
to  the  reckoning  while  yet  embarrassed  by  the 
novelty  of  their  position ;  time  is  allowed  them 
to  consider,  to  calculate,  to  wait  opportunities,  to 
make  experiments.  The  Lord  does  not  quickly 
return  in  a  captious  spirit,  but  delays  till  the 
wise  have  had  time  to  lay  up  great  gains,  and 
even  the  foolish  to  have  learnt  wisdom.  So  with 
ourselves :  we  cannot  complain  if  strict  account 
be  taken  at  the  end,  because  we  really  have  time 
to  learn  how  to  serve  our  Lord.  We  have  time 
to  repair  bad  beginnings,  to  take  thought,  to 
make  up  in  some  degree  for  lost  time.  We  are 
not  hurried  into  mistakes  and  snatched  to  judg- 
ment, as  if  life  were  an  ordeal  we  were  passing 
through,  where  the  slightest  failure  finishes  our 
chances  and  is  relentlessly  watched  for  and  in- 
sisted upon.     We  see  well  enough  that  with  God 


224  THE  PARABLES   OF  OUR  LORD. 

it  is  quite  otherwise  ;  that  He  wishes  us  to  suc- 
ceed, will  not  observe  our  failures,  winks  at  our 
shortcomings,  and  often  repairs  the  ill  we  have 
done. 

It  is  not  without  significance  that  the  servant 
who  did  nothing  at  all  for  his  master,  was  he  who 
had  received  but  one  talent.  No  doubt  those 
who  have  great  ability  are  liable  to  temptations 
of  their  own  ;  they  may  be  more  ambitious,  and 
may  find  it  difficult  to  serve  their  master  with 
means  which  they  see  would  bring  in  to  them- 
selves profits  of  a  kind  they  covet.  But  such 
men  are  at  all  events  not  tempted  to  bury  their 
talent.  Thisi  s  the  peculiar  temptation  of  the  man 
who  has  little  ability,  and  sullenly  retires  from  a 
service  in  which  he  cannot  shine  and  play  a  con- 
spicuous part.  His  ambition  outruns  his  ability, 
and  while  he  envies  the  position  of  others,  he 
neglects  the  duties  of  his  own.  Because  he  can- 
not do  as  much  as  he  would,  he  will  not  do  as 
much  as  he  can.  By  showing  no  interest  in  that 
situation  in  life  that  God  has  seen  fit  he  should 
fill,  he  would  have  us  believe  he  is  qualified  for  a 
higher. 

There  are  many  to  whom  this  hint  of  the  par- 
able applies.  You  are  in  the  same  condemnation 
as  this  servant  when  you  shrink  from  exercising 
your  talent ;  because  it  is  only  one  and  a  small 
one ;  when  you  refuse  to  do  anything,  because 
you  cannot  do  a  great  deal  ;  when  you  refuse  to 


THE   TALENTS.  22$ 

help,  where  you  cannot  lead  ;  when  you  hesitate 
about  aiding  in  some  work,  because  those  with 
whom  you  would  be  associated  in  it  do  it  better, 
and  show  better  in  the  doing  of  it  than  yourself  ; 
when  you  refuse  to  speak  a  word  in  behalf  of 
Christ,  because  you  could  not  satisfy  your  own 
taste,  because  you  could  not  do  it  so  well  as  some 
other  person  could  ;  when  you  refuse  to  take 
some  position,  engage  in  some  duty,  be  of  some 
use  in  a  certain  department  in  which  you  would 
not  excel,  and  would  be  recognized  as  surpassed 
by  some  others.  This  miserable  fear  of  being 
mediocre,  how  many  a  good  work  has  it  prevented 
or  crippled.  If  we  wait  till  we  are  fully  qualified 
to  serve  Christ,  we  shall  never  serve  Him  at  all. 
If  we  cannot  stoop  to  learn  to  do  great  things  by 
doing  very  little  things,  we  shall  never  do  great 
things.  The  only  known  way  to  become  a  strong 
and  full-grown  man  is  to  be  first  a  little  child. 

It  is  a  true  proverb  that  ''  the  sluggard  is  wiser 
in  his  own  eyes  than  seven  men  that  can  render 
a  reason."  He  can  always  justify  his  conduct. 
The  insolence  of  this  man's  words  is  not  inten- 
tional. He  reads  off  correctly  his  own  state  of 
mind,  and  fancies  that  his  conduct  was  appro- 
priate and  innocent.  It  was  not  his  fault  that  his 
master  was  a  man  who  struck  terror  into  the 
hearts  of  his  servants,  and  whom  it  was  useless 
trying  to  please.  And  probably  this  man's  ac- 
count of  the  reason  of  his  inactivity  was  accurate. 


226  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

All  wrongness  of  conduct  is  at  bottom  based  on  a 
wrong  view  of  God.  Nothing  so  conduces  to 
right  action  as  right  thoughts  about  God.  If  we 
think  with  this  servant  that  God  is  hard,  grudg- 
ing to  give  and  greedy  to  get,  taking  note  of  all 
shortcomings,  but  making  no  acknowledgment  of 
sincere  service,  exacting  the  utmost  farthing  and 
making  no  abatement  or  allowance — if  we  one 
way  or  other  virtually  come  to  think  that  God 
never  really  delights  in  our  efforts  after  good,  and 
that  whatever  we  attempt  in  our  life  He  will 
coldly  weigh  and  scorn,  then  manifestly  we  shall 
have  no  heart  to  labor  for  Him. 

But  this  view  of  God  is  unpardonably  narrow, 
and  the  action  flowing  from  it  is  after  all  incon- 
sistent. It  is  unpardonably  wrong,  and  the  very 
heartiness  with  which  these  other  servants  were 
greeted  refutes  it.  You  hear  the  hearty  **  well 
done  "  ringing  through  the  whole  palace — there 
is  no  hesitating  scrutiny,  no  reminding  them  they 
had  after  all  merely  done  what  it  was  their  duty  to 
do — not  at  all — it  is  the  genial,  generous  outburst 
of  a  man  who  likes  to  praise  and  hates  to  find 
people  at  fault ;  he  has  been  hoping  to  get  a  good 
account  of  his  servants,  and  it  is  far  more  joy  in 
them  than  gratification  in  his  increased  property 
that  prompts  this  exclamation  of  surprise  and 
delight  and  approval.  He  feels  himself  much 
richer  in  the  fidelity  of  his  servants  than  in  their 
gains.     He  has  pleasure  in  promoting  them,  in 


THE  TALENTS.  22/ 

bringing  them  up  more  nearly  to  his  own  rank 
and  person,  and  in  making  them  thus  share  in  his 
own  plans  and  arrangements  and  rule  and  joy. 

Moreover,  not  only  is  the  view  of  the  master 
wrong,  but  the  consequent  action,  as  the  master 
points  out,  is  inconsistent.  If  the  master  is  so 
slow  to  recognize  sincere  effort,  so  oppressive  in 
his  exactions,  demanding  bricks  where  he  has  given 
no  straw,  requiring  impossible  performances,  and 
measuring  all  work  by  an  impossible  standard,  is 
this  a  reason  for  making  no  effort  to  conciliate 
him  ?  If  you  feared  that,  in  the  necessary  hazard 
of  business,  you  might  lose  your  lord's  talent,  yet 
surely  his  anger  would  be  as  much  aroused  by 
inactivity  as  by  unsuccessful  efforts  to  serve  him  ? 
Why  did  you  not  at  least  put  his  money  into  the 
hands  of  men  who  would  have  found  a  use  for  it, 
and  would  have  paid  you  a  good  interest?  If 
you  were  too  timid  to  use  the  trust  your  lord  left 
you,  if  you  knew  too  little  of  business  and  the 
world's  ways  to  venture  on  any  self-devised  in- 
vestment, there  were  plenty  of  substantial  genuine 
undertakings  into  which  you  might  have  put 
your  means.  You  could  work  under  the  guidance 
of  some  more  masculine  nature,  who  could  direct 
and  shelter  you. 

There  are  numberless  ways  in  which  the  most 
slenderly  equipped  among  us  can  fulfil  the  sug- 
gestion here  given,  and  put  our  talent  to  the  ex- 
changers, into  the  hands  of  men  who  can  use   it. 


228  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

There  is  no  lack  of  great  works  going  on  for  our 
Lord  to  which  we  may  safely  attach  ourselves,  and 
in  which  our  talent  is  rather  used  by  the  leaders 
of  the  work,  invested  for  us,  than  left  to  our  own 
discretion.     Just  as  in  the  world  there  is  such  an 
endless  variety  of  work  needing  to  be  done,  that 
every  one  finds  his  niche,  so  there  is  no  kind  of 
ability  that  cannot  be  made  use  of  in  the  kingdom 
i  of  Christ.      The  parable  does  not  acknowledge 
/  any  servants  who  have  absolutely  nothing ;  some 
I  have  little  as  compared  with  others,  but  all  have 
••  some  capacity  to  forward  the  interests  of  the  ab- 
sent  master.     Is  every  one  of  us  practically  rec- 
ognizing this — that  there  is  a  part   of  the  work 
/.  he  is  expected  to  do  ?     He  may  seem  to  himself 
to  have  only  one  talent  that  is  not  worth  speaking 
ji  about,  but  that  one  talent  was  given  that  it  might 
,1  be  used,  and  if  it  be  not  used,  there  will  be  some- 
thing  lacking   when    reckoning  is    made   which 
might  and  ought  to  have  been  forthcoming.    Cer- 
tainly there  is  something  you  can  do,  that  is  un- 
questionable ;  there  is  something  that  needs  to  be 
done  which  precisely  you  can  do,  something  by 
doing  which  you  will  please  Him  whose  pleasure 
in  you  will  fill  your  nature  with  gladness.      It  is 
given  to  you  to  increase  your  Lord's  goods. 

But  the  law  which  is  exhibited  in  this  parabolic 
representation  is  also  explicitly  announced  in  the 
words  :  ''  For  unto  every  one  that  hath  shall  be 
given,  and  he  shall  have  abundance,  but  from  him 


THE  TALENTS.  229 

that  hath  not  shall  be  taken  away  even  that  whicl^ 
he  hath."  This  may  be  called  the  law  of  Spiritual 
Capital.  It  is  a  law  with  the  operation  of  which 
we  are  familiar  in  nature,  and  in  the  commercial 
world.  It  is  he  who  has  even  a  little  capital  to 
begin  with,  and  who  makes  a  right  use  of  it,  who 
soon  leaves  far  behind  the  man  who  has  none,  or 
who  neglects  to  invest  what  he  has.  And  the  more 
this  capital  grows,  the  more  rapidly  and  the  more 
easily  is  it  increased.  After  a  certain  point,  it 
seems  to  increase  by  virtue  of  its  own  momentum. 
So  in  certain  sicknesses,  as  soon  as  the  crisis  of 
the  disease  is  past  and  a  Httle  health  has  been 
funded  again  in  the  patient's  constitution,  this  rap- 
idly grows  to  complete  recovery.  So  with  pop- 
ularity, it  begins  one  scarce  knows  how ;  but 
onc^  begun,  the  tide  flows  apace.  You  may  scarce- 
ly be  able  to  say  why  one  statesman  or  one  au- 
thor should  be  so  immeasurably  more  popular 
than  others  ;  but  so  it  is,  that  when  once  a  be- 
ginning is  made,  tribute  flows  in  naturally,  as 
waters  from  all  sides  settle  in  a  hollow.  It  is  the 
same  with  the  acquirement  of  knowledge :  the 
difficulty  is  to  get  past  a  certain  point,  it  is  all 
up-hill  till  then  ;  but  that  point  once  gained,  you 
reach  the  table  lands  and  high  levels  of  knowledge 
where  you  begin  to  see  all  round  you,  and  infor. 
mation  that  has  been  fragmentary,  and  therefore 
useless  before,  now  pieces  itself  together  and  rap- 
idly grows  to  complete  attainment.     Everything 


2^0  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

your  hear  or  see  now  seems  by  a  law  of  nature  to 
contribute  to  the  fund  you  have  already  acquired. 
It  claims  kindred  with  it,  and  unites  itself  to  it. 
"  'Tis  the  taught  already  that  profits  by  teach- 
ing." 

It  is  this  same  law  which  regulates  our  attain- 
ment in  the  service  of  Christ.       However  little 
[grace  we  seem  to  have  to  begin  with,  it  is  this  we 
,Wust  invest,  and  so  nurse  it  into  size  and  strength. 
['Each  time  we  use  the  grace  we  have  by  responding 
:  to  the  demands  made  upon  it,  it  returns  to  us  in- 
creased.    Our  capital  grows  by  an  inevitable  law. 
The  efforts  of  young  or  inexperienced  Christians 
to  give  utterance  to  the  life  that  is  in  them  may 
often  be  awkward,  like  the  movements  of  most 
young  animals.     They  may  be  able  to  begin  only 
in  a  very  small  way,  so  small  a  way  that  sensitive 
persons  are  frequently  ashamed  to   begin   at  all. 
Having   received   Christ,  they  are  conscious    of 
new  desires  and  of  a  new  strength  ;  they  have  a 
regard  for  Christ,  and  were  they  to  assert  this  re- 
gard in  the  circumstances  which  call  for  its  asser- 
tion, their  regard  would  be  deepened.    They  have 
a  desire  to  serve  Him,  and  were  they  to  do  so  in 
those  small  matters  with  which  they  have  daily 
concern,  their   desire  and   ability    would    be    in- 
creased.    Grace  of  any  kind  invested  in  the  actual 
opportunities  of  life  cannot  come  back   to  us  as 
small  as  it  was,  but  enlarged  and  strengthened. 
Such  grace  then  as  we  have,  such  knowledge  as 


THE   TALENTS.  23 1 

we  have  of  what  is  due  to  others,  to  ourselves, 
and  to  God,  let  us  give  free  expression  to.  Such 
investments  of  Christian  principle  as  are  within 
our  reach  let  us  make  ;  such  manifestations  of  a 
Christian  temper  and  mind  as  our  circumstances 
daily  demand  let  us  exhibit,  and  it  must  come  to 
pass  that  we  increase  in  grace.  There  is  no  other 
way  whatever  of  becoming  richly  endowed  in 
spirit  than  by  trading  with  whatever  we  have  to 
begin  with.  We  cannot  leap  into  a  fortune  in 
spiritual  things  ;  rich  saints  cannot  bequeath  us 
what  their  life-long  toil  has  won  ;  they  cannot 
even  lend  us  so  that  we  may  begin  on  borrowed 
capital.  In  the  spiritual  life  all  must  be  genuine  ;  ; 
we  must  work  our  own  way  upwards,  and  by  I 
humbly  and  wisely  laying  out  whatever  we  now 
possess,  make  it  more  or  be  forever  poor. 

And  yet  how  few  avail  themselves  of  this  law, 
and  lay  up  treasure  in  heaven.  How  few  make 
great  fortunes  in  the  spiritual  life.  The  mass  of 
Christians  never  get  even  fairly  started  in  a 
career  which  is  at  all  likely  to  end  in  great  saintli- 
ness  of  character  and  serviceableness.  They  act 
as  if  they  had  no  capital  of  grace  to  begin  with, 
no  fund  to  trade  upon  ;  and  they  never  make  any 
more  of  it  than  they  made  the  first  week  of  their 
profession.  They  are  not  traders,  every  year  in- 
creasing their  stock  and  enlarging  their  gains,  but 
they  resemble  men  who  receive  a  weekly  wage, 
which  is  no  more  to-day  than  it  was  years  ago. 


232  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

Is  it  not  worthy  of  remark  that  after  years  of 
prayer  and  of  concernment  with  the  fountain  of 
all  spiritual  life,  there  should  be  so  small  a  fund 
of  it  laid  up  within  ourselves  ?  Is  it  not  the  fact 
that  we  seem  to  be  living  from  hand  to  mouth,  on 
the  verge  of  bankruptcy,  with  no  more  between 
us  and  spiritual  starvation  than  the  day  we  be- 
lieved? Are  we  conscious  that  our  Christian 
principle  has  been  deepening  year  by  year?  Can 
we  count  over  our  spiritual  gains  this  day,  and 
reckon  up  solid  accumulations  of  grace  in  our 
character?  Or  are  we  still  merely  keeping  the 
wolf  from  the  door,  and  not  always  that  ?  Are 
we  making  a  bare  shift  to  get  through  without 
absolutely  breaking  down  ?  Is  it  all  we  can  do  to 
make  ends  meet,  and  to  keep  up  in  our  own  souls 
the  idea  that  we  are  servants  of  Christ?  Do  we 
feel  as  if  they  were  the  thinnest  partition  between 
us  and  great  sin  ?  In  a  word,  are  we  enriched 
with  the  "  more  abundance  "  of  the  well-doing 
servant,  and  do  we  find  ourselves  every  way  better 
equipped  for  all  good  work;  or  does  even  that 
which  we  once  persuaded  ourselves  we  had  seem 
to  be  vanishing  away? 

But  the  parable  reminds  us  that  it  is  not  only 
the  careless  who  fail  to  use  their  talents  to  ad- 
vantage, but  that  the  same  result  sometimes 
follows  from  a  deliberate  but  false  conception  of 
the  service  of  Christ.  As  in  the  world,  there  are 
many  who  prefer  comfort  to  wealth,  and  have  no 


THE   TA1.ENTS.  233 

ambition  to  rank  as  millionaires,  so  in  the  Christ- 
ian life  many  prefer  what  they  conceive  to  be  se- 
curity to  eminent  saintliness.  They  do  not  care 
about  greatly  increasing  the  godliness  they  al- 
ready have.  They  would  like  to  have  so  much 
grace  as  would  set  them  on  the  right  hand,  not  on 
the  left  ;  on  the  winning  and  not  on  the  losing 
side ;  but  they  are  not  concerned  to  have  an 
abundant  entrance  if  only  they  get  into  the  king- 
dom at  all.  They  therefore  make  no  thorough- 
going effort  to  keep  moving  forwards,  but  rather 
avoid  whatever  would  effectually  commit  them  to 
a  more  devoted  and  self-sacrificing  life.  They 
rather  repress  the  gracious  feelings  they  have  than 
seek  to  secure  for  them  an  increasing  expression 
in  their  life.  They  see  customs  in  business  which 
they  cannot  approve,  but  they  make  no  re- 
monstrance. They  recognize  circumstances  in 
which  a  word  of  Christian  advice  might  be  bene- 
ficial, but  they  do  not  speak  it.  They  decHne 
to  appeal  to  the  highest  motives  of  those  around 
them.  They  do  not  pray  in  their  families.  They 
avoid  all  action  which  might  give  them  a  charac^ 
acter  for  zeal.  They  seek  to  live  a  moderate, 
decent  life.  Theyj^ekjohitjthejr^ 
neither  obviously  godless  nor  to  be  righteous  over 
much.  They  have  some  grace,  but  they  do  not 
circulate  it  and  seek  to  make  it  more ;  they  have 
a  talent,  but  they  bury  it. 

Of  such  a  method  of  dealing  with  our  connec- 


234  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

tion  with  Christ,  there  is  only  one  possible  result. 
The  unused  talent  passes  from  the  servant  who 
would  not  use  it  to  the  man  who  will.  A  land- 
lord has  two  farms  lying  together:  the  one  is 
admirably  managed,  the  other  is  left  almost  to 
itself,  with  the  least  possible  management,  and 
becomes  the  talk  of  the  whole  country-side  for 
poor  crops  and  untidiness.  No  one  asks  what  the 
landlord  will  do  when  the  leases  are  out.  It  is 
a  matter  of  course  that  he  dismisses  the  careless 
tenant,  and  puts  his  farm  into  the  hands  of  the 
skilful  and  diligent  farmer.  He  enforces  the  great 
law :  "  To  him  that  hath  shall  be  given,  and  he 
shall  have  more  abundance  ;  but  from  him  that 
hath  not  shall  be  taken  even  that  he  hath." 

In  the  kingdom  of  Christ  this  law  is  self-acting. 
To   bury  our  talent  and  so  keep  it  as  originally 
given  is  an  impossibility.     To  have  just  so  much^ 
grace  and  no  more  is  an  impossibility.     It  mustl 
either   be   circulating  and  so  multiplying,  or   it! 
ceases  to  be.     It  must  grow,  or  it  will  die.     You 
might  as   well  try  to  keep  your  child  always  a 
child  :  he  must  either  grow  or  die.     In  the  physical 
world  the  law  has  become  familiar.     The  unused  ) 
muscle  dwindles  and   disappears:    no  one  needs 
to  come  and  remove  it ;  want  of  use  removes  it. 
The    ants   whose  habits  of  life  enabled  them  to 
find  food  without  the  aid  of  sight  have  gradually 
lost  the  organ  of  sight  itself.     And  so  is  it  in  the 
spiritual  world  also.     The  unused  faculty  becomes 


THE   TALENTS.  235 

extinct.  Hence  it  is  that  you  see  some  old 
persons  absolutely  callous  :  the  time  was  when 
they  had  at  least  a  capacity  for  believing  in  divine 
things  and  for  choosing  God  as  their  portion,  but 
now  you  would  say  that  the  very  capacity  is  des- 
troyed ;  no  Godward  emotion  can  find  a  place 
in  their  heart,  nothing  can  stir  a  penitent  thought 
in  them.  Hence  it  is  that  in  your  own  souls  you 
perhaps  are  finding  that,  no  matter  what  effort 
you  make,  you  cannot  enter  as  heartily  into  holy 
services  and  occupations  as  once  you  did,  but  are 
finding  your  old  joy  and  assurance  honey-combed 
by  unbelieving  thoughts.  Hence  it  is  that  the 
susceptibility  to  right  feeling  you  had  in  boyhood 
has  gone  from  you.  You  did  not  mean  to  become 
unfeeling,  but  only  shrank  from  acting  as  feeling 
dictated.  But  he  who  blows  out  the  flame,  finds 
that  the  heat  and  the  glow  die  out  of  themselves. 
The  teaching  of  this  side  of  the  parable,  then, 
is  alarming  in  the  extreme.  The  warning  it  con- 
veys proceeds  not  from  an  external  voice  we  can 
defy  or  which  may  be  mistaken,  but  from  the 
laws  of  our  nature  ;  and  it  speaks  not  of  an  arbi- 
trary infliction  of  punishment,  but  of  results  which 
these  laws  render  inevitable.  The  unused  faculty 
dies  out.  The  capacities  we  have  for  loving  and 
serving  God  are  taken  from  us.  That  which  was 
once  possible  becomes  forever  impossible.  The 
future  once  open  to  us  is  closed.  We  are  per- 
manently crippled,  limited,  paralyzed,  deadened. 


236  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

Had  we  followed  the  openings  given  to  us,  had 
we  used  the  talent  committed  to  us,  endless  ex- 
pansion and  fulness  of  joy  would  have  been  ours, 
but  now  our  chances  are  past.     We  have  had  our 
opportunity,  we  have  for  years  been  on  probation, 
but  now  it  is  over  for  us.     How  gladly  would  a\ 
man  renounce  all  that  sin   has   brought  him,  if  1 
only  he  could  stand  again  with  his  talent   in  his/ 
hand,  and  all  life's  opportunities  before  him.     If' 
there  is  one  truth  more  than  another  on  which 
the  young  may  begin  to  build  their  life,  it  is  this  : 
that  each  time  you  decline  a  duty  to  which  your 
better  selfs  prompts  you,  you  become  less  capa- 
ble of  doing  it  ;   and  on  the  other  hand,  that  each 
resistance  to  temptation,  each  humble  and  pain- 
ful effort  after  what  is  good,  is  real  growth  in  char- 
acter, growth  as  real  and  as  permanent  as  the 
growth  in  stature  which,  once  attained,  can  never 
again  dwindle  to  the  size  of  the  child. 

Let  us  then  give  ear  to  the  parable,  and  if  we 
are  conscious  that  even  now  we  are  very  poor  in 
spiritual  things,  let  us  make  the  most  of  the 
grace  we  have  lest  we  become  altogether  destitute. 
If  we  are  now  stammering  in  prayer,  the  like- 
lihood is  we  shall  soon  be  dumb,  unable  to  pray. 
If  we  are  more  frequently  questioning  the  reality 
of  God's  interference  in  human  affairs,  and  if  we 
more  freely  admit  doubts  regarding  cardinal 
truths,  the  likelihood  is  we  shall  soon  disbelieve, 
and  have  the  very  faculty  of  faith  paralyzed  soas^ 


THE  TALENTS.  237 

to  be  unable  to  perceive  evidence  the  most 
weighty  and  conclusive.  If  we  are  letting  go  one 
by  one  our  Christian  connections,  and  involving 
ourselves  more  and  more  with  worldly  matters, 
the  probability  is  that  shortly  we  shall  be  hard- 
ened and  eager  worldlings.  We  have  seen  the 
process  going  on  in  many  ;  why  is  it  not  to  go  on  in 
ourselves  ?  If  good  works  and  charitable  employ- 
ments are  more  a  burden  to  us  than  they  were, 
let  us  beware  lest  we  wither  and  become  fit  only 
for  the  axe  and  the  fire.  As  the  cramped  and^ 
numbed  arm  warms  and  wakens  the  sleeper,  so 
let  this  creeping  hardness  that  comes  over  our 
spirits  awaken  us,  while  yet  there  is  time  to 
chafe  the  dead  limb  to  life.  If  yet  we  can  sum^ 
mon  into  active  life  one  self-denying  resolution, 
if  yet  we  can  feel  at  all  the  constraining  power  of 
Christ's  love,  and  can  obey  His  voice  in  any  one 
particular,  if  yet  we  can  prevail  upon  ourselves  to 
give  up  worldly  and  carnal  ideas  of  life,  and  en- 
tertain humble  and  chastened  desires ;  then  let 
us  most  anxiously  cherish  such  feelings,  let  us  fan 
every  good  disposition  into  flame  lest  it  die,  let 
us  at  once  circulate  and  invest  our  little  remain- 
ing capital  in  the  good  works  we  are  daily  called 
to,  that  the  very  faculty  of  doing  anything  for 
God  and  our  fellow-men  may  not  forever  perish 
out  of  us. 

In  closing,  it  may  be  well  to  give  special  prom- 
inence to  a  truth  which  has  throughout  been  im- 


238      THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

plied  that  increased  grace  is  its  own  reward  ;  or/\ 
at  any  rate,  an  essential  part  of  it.     The  servant  ^ 
who  had  multiplied  his  talents    is    rewarded  by 
the  possession  and  use  of  these  multiplied  talents. 
He  does  not  now  get  the  burden  of  business  lifted 
off  his  shoulders,  and  a  life  of  ease  appointed  to 
him.     This  would  be  to    reward    the    successful 
officer  by  depriving  him  of  his   command,  as  if 
an  ample  pension  would  compensate  to  a  martial 
spirit  for  the  want  of  active  service  and  fresh  op- 
portunities of  using  richer  experience  and  ampler 
powers.     The  talents  gained  are  left  in  the  hands, 
that  gained    them,  and  wider  opportunities   for^> 
their  use  are  afforded.     This  is  the  reward  of  the  t 
faithful  servant  of  Christ ;  the  grace  he  has  dili- 
gently   used   is    increased,  and  his  opportunities  | 
continually  multiply.     He  is  always  entering  upon; 
his  reward  ;  and  entrance  into  heaven  only  marka 
the  point  at  which  his  Lord  expresses  His   ap. 
proval,  and  raises  him  from  a  position  in  which 
his  fidelity  is  tested  to  a  position  of  rule,  that  is. 
of  acknowledged  trustworthiness  and  self-control, 
the  position  of  one  who  has  acquired  an  interest 
in  the  work,  and  who  so  manifestly  lives  for  it 
that  it  is  impossible  any  interest  of  his  own  should 
divert  him  from  this.     He  has  no  other  interest. 
His  joy  is  his  Lord's  joy,  joy  in  successfully  ad^ 
vancing  the  best  interests  of  men,  joy  in  the  sight 
of  others  made  righteously  happy. 

This,  then,  is  the  reward  Christ  offers  to  us,  a 


THE   TALENTS.  239 

reward  consisting  mainly  in  increased  ability  to 
serve  Him  and  forward  what  is  good.     There  can 
be  no  reward  more  certain,  for  it  begins  here  and 
now.    Your  increasing  grace  is  your  heaven  begun.  ^ 
This  is  the  earnest  of  the  Spirit,  the  dawning  of 
eternal  day.     No  one  need  tell  you  that  there  is  > 
no  heaven  :  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  within  you/ 
And  this  reward  is  also  the  best  you  can  imagine. 
All  other  rewards  would  be  external  to  yourself 
and  separable  from  yourself,  but  this    reward  is 
within  you,  in  your    own    growth  in    character. 
Not  your  condition  alone,  but  you  yourself  are 
to  be    good.     What    can    be    better    than    this?  \ 
What  is  the  reward  the  sick  man  receives  for  his 
attention  to  every  prescription  of  his  physician 
and  his  avoidance  of  everything  that  would  throw 
him  back  ?    His  reward  is  that  he  becomes  healthy.  . 
What  reward  has  the  boy  for  obedience  and  dili- 
gence and  purity  ?     His  reward  is  that  he  becomes 
a  vigorous  and  capable  man,  fit  for  the  ampler  en- 
joyments which  the  nobler  activities  of  life  bring.  \. 
So  says  our  Lord,  "  I  am  come  that  ye    might  \ 
have  life,  and  that  ye  might  have  it  more  abun-M 
dantly."     If  it  be  asked,  what  is  the  great  induce-  / 
ment  ?  what  is  that  which  makes  life  worth  liv--' 
ing  ?  what  is  that  which  we  can  set  before  us  as 
our  sufficient  reward  and  aim  ?  the  answer  can 
only   be:    the   inducement   is  that  we  have  the 
sure  hope  of  becoming  satisfactory    persons,  of   : 
growing  up  to  the  stature  and  energies  of   per-/ 


240  THE    PARABLES   OF  OUR   LORD. 

feet  men,  of  becoming  perfect  as  our  Father  is 
perfect,  who  needs  no  reward  but  deh'ghts  ever- 
more in  being  and  doing  good  ;  who  loves  and  is 
therein  blessed. 


PARABLE  OF  THE  TWO  DEBTORS. 

Luke  vii.  36-50. 

The  reader  of  the  Gospels  cannot  fail  to  remark 
/hat  the  narratives  of  physical  cures  are  greatly 
in  excess  of  the  narratives  of  spiritual  restora- 
tions. Even  in  cases  where  spiritual  good  was 
received,  this  comes  in  sometimes  as  a  mere 
appendage  to  the  physical  healing.  Neither 
can  it  be  thought  that  the  faith  required  for  the 
cure  of  the  bodily  disease  itself  guarantees  the 
permanent  health  of  the  spirit ;  for  there  is 
convincing  evidence  that  not  every  one  who  was 
physically  restored  was  also  emancipated  from 
spiritual  disorder.  In  fact,  the  reader  longs  for 
fuller  information  regarding  our  Lord's  method 
of  dealing  with  those  whose  soundness  of  body 
enabled  them  to  dispense  with  appeal  to  His 
miraculous  power,  but  who  were  yet  broken  in 
fortune,  defeated  in  life,  enthralled  by  evil  habit. 
This  little  story  presents  us  with  such  a  case  ; 
and  it  gives  us  a  glimpse  of  the  background  of 
the  life  of  Christ.  It  was  only  by  accident  this 
woman's  case  came  to  the  front.  There  may 
have  been  many  who,  like  her,  received  light  and 
16  24.1 


242  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

healing  of  soul  from  a  few  minutes'  quiet  talk 
with  Christ,  and  who  returned  to  their  occupa^ 
tions  unnoticed  but  renewed.  Before  she  came 
to  Simon's  house,  this  woman  had  heard  Jesus, 
and  had  found  in  Him  salvation  ;  but  nothing 
is  told  us  of  that  ])art  of  her  history. 

In  asking  Jesus  to  dine  with  him,  the  Pharisee 
probably  acted,  as  most  men  on  all  occasions 
act,  from  mixed  motives.  Others  were  invited, 
and  gladly,  no  doubt,  availed  themselves  of  the 
opportunity  of  meeting  Jesus  and  for  themselves 
determining  whether  His  claim  to  be  a  prophet 
was  or  was  not  valid.  That  the  Pharisee  felt 
himself  in  the  position  of  a  superior  person  who 
might  sit  in  judgment  on  this  man  from  Naza- 
reth, is  apparent  from  the  circumstance  that 
though  he  asked  Him  to  his  house,  he  gave  Him 
a  barely  civil  reception,  pointing  Him  to  His 
place  without  even  the  formal  courtesies  which, 
though  small  in  themselves,  greatly  facilitate 
freedom  and  friendliness  of  intercourse.  A 
Pharisee,  above  all  men,  might  have  been  ex- 
pected to  be  punctilious  in  these  matters.  But 
very  often  those  whose  manner's  are  formed 
upon  irreproachable  models  fail  grievously  in 
the  genial  consideration  of  others  which  springs 
from  sweetness  of  nature. 

The  coldness  of  the  reception  given  to  Jesus 
by  the  self-satisfied  Pharisee  was  unexpectedly 
set  in  a  very  strong  light  by  the  strikingly  oppo- 


THE   TWO   DEBTORS.  243 

site  conduct  of  the  woman  who  came  into  the 
room  where  the  company  was  dining.  The 
common  Eastern  fashion  is  to  sit  cross-legged 
on  the  floor  at  meals.  But  the  Jews  of  our 
Lord's  time  had  adopted  the  more  luxurious 
Greek  style  of  reclining  on  couches  round  a 
raised  table.  Jesus  was  thus  reclining  on  His 
left  side,  with  His  head  towards  the  table  and 
His  feet  extended  on  the  couch  towards  the  wall 
of  the  room.  The  intrusion  of  an  uninvited 
guest  during  meals  would  of  itself  excite  no 
remark.  In  fact,  provision  was  often  made  for 
such  intruders  by  setting  cushions  round  the 
wall  of  the  room  for  the  accommodation  of  persons 
who  might  wish  to  talk  with  the  guests  either 
on  business  or  other  matters.  But  that  a  woman 
of  notoriously  bad  character,  and  who  could  not 
fail  to  be  known  in  the  little  town  to  all  but 
strangers,  should  thus  enter  the  dining-room  of 
a  Pharisee,  was  probably  an  unheard-of  presump- 
tion. But  her  whole  nature  was  for  the  time 
absorbed  in  devotion  to  Jesus,  and  she  could  not 
wait  for  a  quieter  time  or  more  convenient  place, 
but  passed  unheeding  through  the  abuse  and 
repulses  of  the  servants  of  the  house.  For  her 
there  was  but  one  presence  there.  She  saw  no 
one  else;  she  thought  of  no  one  else.  Her  im- 
pulsive temperament,  which  had  possibly  led 
her  astray  at  first,  now  stands  her  in  good  stead, 
and  rebukes    our  cold  and  tardy  expressions  of 


244  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

gratitude,  our  cautious  and  timorous  professions 
of  love  to  Christ. 

She  enters  the  room  with  the  intention  of 
anointing  the  feet  of  Jesus.  But  ere  she  can 
offer  Him  this  adoration,  the  fulness  of  her 
heart,  stirred  by  His  presence,  overflows,  and  in  a 
tumult  of  penitence,  joy,  and  love  she  sinks  at 
His  feet  and  bursts  into  tears.  In  her  confusion, 
seeking  for  something  to  wipe  the  feet  her  tears 
have  wet,  she  uses  the  hair  that  is  hanging  dis- 
heveled about  her,  and  her  face  being  thus  drawn 
down  and  hidden,  she  covers  His  feet  with  kisses. 
Then  remembering  her  errand,  she  pours  the 
ointment  over  them. 

That  our  Lord  did  not  interrupt  her  is  more 
remarkable  than  that  none  of  the  onlookers  did. 
To  any  ordinary  teacher  or  benefactor  there 
would  have  been  extreme  awkwardness  in  receiv- 
ing so  extravagant  a  demonstration  of  affection 
and  in  such  circumstances.  She  kissed  His  feet. 
Homage  can  find  no  lowlier  tribute  to  pay. 
Adoration  can  no  farther  go.  And  we  cannot 
but  rejoice  that  for  the  credit  of  our  common 
humanity  such  a  tribute  was  paid  to  our  Lord. 
There  were  at  least  some  on  earth  who  recognized 
that  He  deserved  all  they  could  give.  This 
woman's  worship  is  an  exhilarating  spectacle. 
She  creates  an  atmosphere  it  does  one  good  to 
breathe,  an  atmosphere  of  high  and  true  senti- 
ment,   in   which    things    are    rightly    estimated, 


THE   TWO   DEBTORS.  245 

and  in  which  conventionality  disappears.  Would 
only  that  her  kissing  of  the  feet  of  incarnate 
goodness  and  love  were  the  representative  expres- 
sion of  the  feeling  of  all  men  towards  Christ ! 

But  to  the  Pharisee  the  admission  of  this  woman 
to  such  liberties  was  proof  that  Jesus  was  no  proph- 
et. He  himself  would  have  allowed  no  such 
unseemly  familiarities  at  the  hands  of  a  degraded 
person  ;  and  indeed  he  might  be  very  easy  on  that 
score,  for  it  is  not  the  sanctimoniousness  of  the 
Pharisee  that  elicits  such  tributes  of  devotion. 
Judging  Jesus  by  himself  and  his  class,  he  did  not 
doubt  that  He  too  would  have  spurned  this 
woman's  attentions  had  He  known  her  character. 
It  was  obvious  to  the  Pharisee  that  Jesus  could 
not  know  her  character,  and  he  therefore  concluded 
He  had  none  of  the  spiritual  insight  supposed  to 
characterize  the  prophet.  Jesus  penetrates  his 
thought,  and  makes  him  sensible  that  whether  or 
not  He  had  understood  the  woman's  state.  He  at 
any  rate  accurately  gauged  him.  In  a  conversa- 
tional, easy  way  He  shows,  by  the  Parable  of  the 
Two  Debtors,  that  love  is  proportioned  to  in- 
debtedness ;  and  then,  applying  the  Parable,  He 
defends  the  woman's  conduct,  and  leaves  Simon 
to  draw  edifying  conclusions  from  his  own.  The 
Parable  is  so  put  that  it  is  obvious  to  the  en- 
tire company  that  great  love  means  great  forgive- 
ness, while  meager  love  means  small  or  doubtful 
forgiveness.     Our   Lord  then    contrasts  Simon's 


246  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

conduct  with  the  woman's  ;  his  supercilious  viola- 
tion of  the  commonest  courtesies  with  her  gratui- 
tous attentions  ;  his  haughty  suspicion  with  her 
undoubtingand  devoted  reverence  ;  his  self-serving 
and  contemptuous  hospitality,  his  languid  and 
cool  civility,  which  was  unequal  to  the  task  of 
filling  even  the  common  forms  of  politeness,  with 
the  woman's  uncontrollable  love  that  broke 
through  all  rules  and  proprieties  of  life,  and  forced 
new  channels  for  its  own  vast  volume.  The  facts 
are  obvious  to  the  whole  company ;  the  woman's 
love  is  unmistakable,  Simon's  coldness  is  equally 
apparent. 

What  deduction,  then,  is  to  be  drawn  from  these 
facts  regarding  the  spiritual  condition  of  either 
party  ?  Simon  himself  has  announced  the  rule  for 
making  such  a  deduction.  Great  love,  he  has  just 
said,  is  the  result  of  great  forgiveness.  The  larger 
debtor  loved  his  creditor  because  he  forgave  him 
much.  This  woman,  then,  has  been  greatly 
forgiven ;  her  love  is  the  evidence,  the  proof  of 
it,  according  to  Simon's  own  showing.  Love, 
you  have  told  us,  varies  with  indebtedness  ;  this 
woman's  great  love  means  that  she  is  greatly  in< 
debted,  has  been  greatly  forgiven.  The  vehe- 
mence, or  as  no  doubt  you  would  say,  the  in- 
decency of  this  woman's  affection,  is  proof  that 
her  many  sins  are  forgiven  ;  that  is  to  say,  that 
she  is  pure.  But — our  Lord  adds  with  a  significant 
warning — to  whom  little    is  forgiven,  the   same 


THE   TWO   DEBTORS.  247 

loveth  little  ;  a  hint  which  might  raise  in  the 
mind  of  Simon  the  question,  Am  I  forgiven  at 
all?  If  love  be  the  index  by  which  we  can  read 
the  amount  of  forgiveness,  and  if  I  have  barely 
love  enough  to  show  decent  respect,  what  am  I 
to  conclude  regarding  my  own  debt  ? 

Our  Lord's  immediate  object  in  this  Parable 
was  to  defend  the  woman  and  justify  His  own  al- 
lowance of  her  presence  and  expressions  of  affec- 
tion. This  defense  and  justification  are  accom- 
plished when  it  is  shown  that  the  very  familiarities 
which  the  Pharisee  thought  Jesus  should  have 
rebuked  are  the  proof  that  the  woman  is  forgiven, 
cleansed,  and  pure.  Simon  had  inwardly  con- 
demned both  the  woman  and  Jesus;  the  woman 
for  being  a  sinner,  Jesus  for  admitting  her  famil- 
iarities. By  the  Parable,  Jesus  gives  him  to 
understand  that  her  love  is  its  own  justification. 
In  this  reasoning  there  is  involved — first,  that  love 
to  Christ  is  love  to  God,  and  is  therefore  the 
measure  of  purity ;  and  secondly,  that  love  to 
Christ  is  the  result  of  forgiveness. 

I.  First,  Christ  points  to  the  woman's  demon- 
strations of  love  to  Him  as  proof  that  her  sins  are 
forgiven.  He  is  the  creditor  who  has  forgiven 
much,  and  is  therefore  loved  much.  In  other 
words,  He  puts  Himself,  and  allows  the  woman  to 
put  Him,  in  the  place  of  God  ;  accepting  her  love 
for  Himself  as  if  it  were  love  to  God,  and  there- 
fore proof  that  she  is  forgiven  and  pure.     He  does 


248     THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

not  appeal  to  the  fact  that  her  heart  was  filled 
with  love,  irrespective  of  the  object  of  the  love  ; 
He  does  not  argue  that  because  she  was  now  pos- 
sessed by  a  pure  and  unselfish  affection,  she  was 
in  a  radically  sound  state  of  spirit.  His  argument 
is,  that  she  has  been  forgiven  a  debt,  and  therefore 
loves  her  creditor.  It  is  Christ  Himself  she  loves, 
and  He  therefore  is  the  creditor  who  has  forgiven 
her ;  but  her  debt  was  sin,  transgression  against 
God,  and  it  is  therefore  God  who  is  her  true  cred- 
itor. Christ  thus  identifies  Himself  with  God,  and 
in  the  simplest  manner  accepts  love  to  Himself  as 
if  it  were  love  to  God,  and  as  decisive  evidence 
regarding  the  woman's  relation  to  the  Highest. 

On  another  occasion  the  Pharisees  observed 
what  was  implied  in  Christ's  forgiving  sin,  and  took 
exception  to  His  doing  so  on  the  valid  ground 
that  none  can  forgive  sins  but  God  only.  And  it 
maybe  supposed  that  on  reflection  this  woman  saw 
what  was  implied  in  her  connection  with  Christ. 
It  may  be  that  as  yet  she  had  no  definite  ideas  re- 
garding the  relation  in  which  Christ  stood  to  God. 
We  do  not  know  how  He  had  got  round  her  heart 
and  quickened  within  her  a  craving  for  purity,  and 
encouraged  her  to  strive  after  it.  But  plainly  He 
had  enabled  her  to  believe  herself  forgiven,  and 
had  filled  her  heart  with  new  desires,  and  to  her 
He  was  the  embodiment  of  the  Divine.  All  she 
sought  was  in  Him.  And  Christ  does  not  warn 
her,  as  if  this  passionate  devotion  to  Him  might 


THE  TWO  DEBTORS.  249 

arrest  a  love  which  should  go  beyond  His  person. 
He  allows  her  to  worship  Him,  to  rivet  her  af- 
fections and  her  hopes  upon  Him  ;  He  encourages 
her  to  think  of  Him  as  the  forgiver  of  her  sin,  as 
the  one  to  whom  it  was  right  to  give  undivided 
and  unstinted  love,  as  her  Lord  and  her  God. 

Christ  is,  in  human  personality,  "  the  power  not 
ourselves  that  makes  for  righteousness."  He  is 
God  manifest  in  the  flesh.  In  Him  we  have  all 
that  lifts  us  to  what  is  best  and  highest  in  human 
nature.  In  Him  we  find  God;  all  that  is  sufficient 
to  give  us  confidence,  guidance,  peace ;  to  fill  our 
affections  and  quicken  them,  to  educate  conscience 
and  cleanse  it,  to  lift  us  out  of  ourselves  and  give 
us  eternal  satisfaction.  And  Christ  links  us  to 
Himself  by  love,  and  through  our  love  imparts  all 
the  blessing  He  gives.  To  create  an  enthusiasm 
for  Himself,  a  true  attachment  to  His  own  person, 
is  His  chief  object.  This  woman  may  have  had 
many  foolish  ideas  about  God  and  man,  she  may 
have  retained  much  that  was  faulty,  but  in  that 
passion  of  devotion  to  Himself  our  Lord  saw  the 
beginning  of  all  good  in  her.  Affection  for  Him 
deadens  every  evil  passion  ;  it  maintains  the  soul 
in  an  atmosphere  of  purity  ;  it  assimilates  the 
whole  nature  to  the  Divine,  and  fills  the  heart 
with  love  to  men.  Love  to  Christ  is,  therefore, 
the  measure  and  the  pledge  of  purity. 

2.  Secondly,  love  to  Christ  is  the  result  of  for- 
giveness, and  varies  with  the  amount  of  debt  for- 


250  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

given.  But  this  statement  requires  certain  modi- 
fications. We  must  not  force  out  of  the  parable 
any  numerically  exact  ratio  between  pardon  and 
love.  Jesus  does  not  mean  that  the  one  debtor 
of  the  Parable  was  precisely  ten  times  as  grateful 
as  the  other,  although  his  canceled  debt  was  ten 
times  as  great.  Manifestly  the  character  of  the 
debtors  must  betaken  into  account,  and  their  way 
of  looking  at  the  debt.  If  they  were  men  of  a 
precisely  similar  sensitiveness  of  conscience  and 
quickness  of  feeling,  then  their  gratitude  would 
be  in  proportion  to  their  debt.  But  where  do  we 
find  two  such  men  ?  Is  it  not  notorious  that 
while  one  man  is  broken-hearted  under  the  shame 
of  bankruptcy,  another,  less  nicely  educated  to 
mercantile  honor,  jauntily  sets  about  repairing  his 
shattered  fortunes,  and  gaily  trims  his  sails  to 
catch  the  changing  wind  ?  And  between  these 
extremes  are  there  not  all  possible  gradations  of 
feeling  and  of  conduct  ?  So  is  it  with  our  debt 
to  God.  He  who  has  inherited  a  sensitive  con- 
science, and  has  been  trained  to  shrink  from  the 
smallest  stain,  will  on  that  very  account  be  deeply 
humbled  even  by  sins  which  others  make  light  of, 
and  will  highly  value  the  mercy  that  forgives  them. 
A  coarser  nature,  habituated  to  vice,  and  satu- 
rated with  depraved  ideas,  may  accept  forgiveness 
with  surprisingly  little  sense  of  the  goodness  of 
God.  It  is  not,  in  short,  the  amount  of  sin,  but 
the  sense  of  it,  which  is  the  measure  of  gratitude 


THE   TWO    DEBTORS.  2^1 

to  Him  who  forgives  it.  To  suppose  that  by  sin- 
ning deeply  you  secure  that  one  day  you  will  love 
much,  is  a  fallacy.  You  may  have  more  sin  to  be 
conscious  of ;  but  your  consciousness  of  it,  instead 
of  being  greater,  will  be  less.  You  will  seek  in 
vain  for  the  old  shame,  for  the  early  remon- 
strances of  conscience,  for  the  same  humiliation 
on  account  of  many  sins  that  you  once  had  on  ac- 
count of  few.  Your  many  sins  will  stand  as  facts 
in  your  history  ;  but  your  heart,  long  used  to  their 
company,  will  refuse  to  loathe  them  as  once  it  did. 
To  be  very  wicked  is  no  safe  receipt  for  becoming 
very  good. 

But  the  fact  to  which  our  Lord  points  in  the 
parable  is  the  commonly  recognized  one,  that  ab- 
stinence from  crime,  and  from  vices  which  society 
condemns,  and  which  stain  the  outward  life,  fre- 
quently produces  a  self-satisfied  and  superficial 
character.  The  Pharisee  is  essentially  shallow. 
He  accustoms  himself  to  judge  by  what  appears  ; 
and  when  he  is  conscious  that  he  satisfies  the  re- 
quirements of  men  like  himself,  who  see  no  deeper 
than  the  conduct,  he  thinks  little  of  his  essential 
character,  and  spends  no  pains  on  ascertaining  in 
what  his  virtue  is  rooted.  The  obvious  difference 
between  himself  and  the  flagrant  transgressor  of 
the  law  betrays  him  into  self-complacency,  pride, 
and  ignorance  of  the  spiritual  life  and  of  God. 
Such  a  person  remains  unhumbled,  and  has  no 
thirst  for  forgiveness,  not  being  sensible  of  defile- 


252  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

merit.  He  criticises  Christ,  observes  and  con- 
siders but  does  not  fully  understand  Him.  He 
investigates  His  relation  to  other  men ;  but  no 
instinct  of  his  own  prompts  him  to  cast  himself 
upon  His  friendship  as  the  very  Person  he  needs. 
In  contrast  to  this  cold  and  self-satisfied  char- 
acter, our  Lord  sets  the  humbled  penitent,  the 
person  who  is  broken-hearted  on  account  of  the 
defilement  and  accumulating  misery  and  hopeless- 
ness of  his  sin.  His  transgression  may  have  been 
of  a  kind  that  makes  a  dark  blot  on  the  life. 
Originally  of  a  warm  and  passionate  nature,  he 
may  have  burst  the  ordinary  trammels  which 
society  lays  upon  men,  and  may  have  brought 
into  his  life  a  great  deal  of  wretchedness.  He  may 
be  so  entangled  that  deliverance  seems  hopeless ; 
character  and  strength  of  will  alike  gone,  he  may 
go  from  day  to  day  not  knowing  where  to  look 
for  any  help,  and  sometimes  disposed  to  abandon 
all  thought  of  restoration,  and  give  himself  frankly 
and  finally  to  ruin.  Such  a  person,  when  he  is 
lifted  out  of  his  solitary  despair  by  the  loving 
recognition  of  Christ,  when  he  feels  the  forgiving 
hand  laid  upon  him  and  sees  the  gate  of  a  new 
life  standing  open  at  his  very  feet,  when  he  be- 
comes conscious  that  through  all  his  vileness  and 
selfishness  a  Divine  compassion  has  followed  him, 
is  wholly  overcome  with  mingled  shame  and  joy, 
and  hails  the  Saviour  as  One  who  Feems  to  have 
been  provided  precisely  for  his  necessities.      This 


THE   TWO    DEBTORS.  253 

is  the  advantage  that  the  conscious  sinner  has  over 
the  self-righteous  Pharisee.  The  sins  of  the  one 
being  branded  by  public  sentiment,  and  bringing 
the  sinner  into  collision  with  physical  and  social 
laws,  are  recognized  by  the  sinner  himself  as  deadly 
and  humiliating  evils.  He  cannot  blind  himself 
to  the  fact  that  forgiveness  and  cleansing,  inward 
help  and  purity,  are  needed  by  himself.  Sin,  if  it 
has  not  deepened  his  nature,  has,  at  all  events, 
convinced  him  of  its  own  reality,  and  of  the  ter- 
rible influence  it  can  exert  in  a  human  life.  The 
Person  who  sets  him  free  from  this  pervasive, 
intractable,  and  overmastering  evil  becomes  all  in 
all  to  him. 

But  how  was  Simon,  and  how  are  we,  to  profit 
by  the  knowledge  that  love  to  Christ  is  the  result 
of  forgiveness?  We  are  conscious  that  for  the 
settlement  and  perfecting  of  the  spirit  there  is 
nothing  like  love  to  Christ.  We  know  that  the 
existence  in  us  of  this  affection  would  secure  that 
our  relations  to  everything  else  should  be  right. 
We  have  a  sense  of  degradation  so  long  as  we  are 
attracted  by  other  persons  and  things,  and  yet 
feel  only  a  slight  attraction  and  an  insecure  attach- 
ment to  Christ.  We  would  fain  love  Him  with 
the  whole  strength  of  our  nature.  But  how  are 
we  to  achieve  this  highest  state  of  feeling?  It  is 
useless  to  demand  love,  as  if  such  a  demand  could 
be  directly  enforced.  This  is  the  old  dead  law 
over  again:  "Thou  shalt  love."     This,  we  findj 

V  ,'.i.j2^tt>i  y^ta^-pkt^  To   t^' 


254  THE    PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

we  cannot  fulfil.  We  cannot  love  just  because 
we  are  commanded  to  love  ;  no,  nor  because  it 
would  be  to  our  advantage  to  love,  nor  even 
because  we  wish  to  do  so.  Love  must  be  spon- 
taneous :  it  is  created  in  presence  of  what  fits  our 
nature,  so  that  often  we  cannot  tell  why  we  love 
such  and  such  a  person,  not  understanding  our 
own  nature  sufficiently  to  see  the  suitableness. 
Love  to  Christ  is  the  spontaneous  product  of  our 
sense  of  His  suitableness  to  our  nature  and  con- 
dition, and  of  our  indebtedness  to  him.  A  sense 
of  indebtedness  does  in  some  cases  produce  hatred 
rather  than  love.  But  we  cannot  seek  or  accept 
forgiveness  until  we  are  humbled  and  see  some- 
thing of  the  transcendent  attractiveness  of  the 
Lord.  The  soil  is  thus  prepared  for  the  springing 
of  love  in  response  to  the  sunshine  of  His  favor. 

Besides  forgiveness  is  not  a  solitary  gift.  It  is 
the  beginning  of  a  new  life,  a  center  from  which 
life  and  light  radiate,  a  germ  which  exists  not  so 
much  for  itself  as  for  what  it  produces.  It  brings 
assurance  of  a  friendship  that  is  of  infinite  value; 
it  imparts  a  reliance  upon  God,  as  our  God,  teach- 
ing us  to  count  upon  Him,  exhibiting  to  us  His 
hitherto  unthought-of  goodness.  It  pervades  the 
soul  with  new  and  exhilarating  sensations,  and  fills 
it  with  new  desires  and  purposes.  Therefore  the 
Gospel  does  not  directly  say  "  Love,"  but  "  Be- 
lieve." Trust  in  Christ  as  willing  to  forgive. 
Bring  to  Him  your  empty,  ruined,  ungodly,  un- 


THE   TWO   DEBTORS.  255 

loving  spirit,  and  have  it  healed,  filled,  renewed. 
Act  upon  what  you  at  present  know,  that  He  makes 
provision  in  His  own  person  and  work  for  sinful 
men.  Humbly  appeal  to  Him  with  such  penitence 
and  with  such  earnestness  as  you  have  ;  and  as  you 
open  your  spirit  more  and  more  to  His  influence, 
and  find  increasingly  how  complete  you  are  in 
Him,  your  love  will  grow.  It  may  not  be  of  the 
passionate  type  elicited  in  this  woman  by  the 
visible  presence  of  the  Lord,  but  it  will  be  sound 
enough  to  urge  you  to  serve  and  to  please  Him. 
The  character  of  the  love  we  bear  Him  must  be  in 
some  respects  difl"erent  from  that  which  those  felt 
who  saw  His  loving  expression  of  face,  and  heard 
their  forgiveness  pronounced  by  His  own  lips  ;  but 
it  cannot  be  impossible  or  unlikely  that  we  should 
learn  truly  and  deeply  to  love  Him  who  alone 
brings  into  our  life  the  fruitful  and  happy  expecta- 
tion of  endless  purity  and  love,  who  alone  gives  us 
assurance  that  this  life  is  anything  better  than  a 
short  and  uneasy  dream.  Can  we  fail  to  love  Him 
whose  love  for  us  is,  after  all,  almost  the  only  fixed 
and  sure  thing  we  can  count  upon  ?  Can  we  fail 
to  love  Him  to  whom  we  must  be  indebted  for  as 
great  a  forgiveness  as  w^as  this  woman  ? 

She  sat  and  wept  beside  His  feet ;  the  weight 
Of  sin  oppressed  her  heart ;  for  all  the  blame, 
And  the  poor  malice  of  the  worldly  shame, 

To  her  was  past,  extinct,  and  out  of  date  ; 

Only  the  sin  remained,— the  leprous  state  ; 


356  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

She  would  be  melted  by  the  heat  of  love, 
I  By  fires  far  fiercer  than  are  blown  to  prove 

And  purge  the  silver  ore  adulterate. 
She  sat  and  wept,  and  with  her  untressed  hair 

Still  wiped  the  feet  she  was  so  blest  to  touch  ; 
And  He  wiped  off  the  soiling  of  despair 

From  her  sweet  soul,  because  she  loved  so  much. 
I  am  a  sinner,  full  of  doubts  and  fears  ; 
Make  me  a  humble  thing  of  love  and  tears. 


THE  GOOD  SAMARITAN. 

Luke  x.  25-37. 

TilE  lawyer  who  unwittingly  gave  occasion  to 
our  Lord  to  utter  the  Parable  of  the  Good  Samar- 
itan, was  not  one  of  those  who  sought  to  betray 
Him  into  some  indiscreet  or  unorthodox  expres- 
sion with  which  they  might  accuse  Him  before  the 
authorities.  He  was  rather  of  the  less  offensive 
type  of  person  very  largely  represented  in  our 
own  day,  who  takes  an  interest  in  religious  sub- 
jects and  religious  teachers,  who  goes  to  hear  all 
the  varieties  of  preaching,  and  is  ready  with  an 
opinion  on  every  novel  theory,  and  who  for  the 
most  part  measures  all  he  hears  by  a  standard  as 
obsolete  and  inapplicable  as  it  would  be  to  meas- 
ure the  sufficiency  of  a  town's  defenses  by  their 
ability  to  resist  sling-stones  or  battering  rams. 
This  lawyer  tested  our  Lord  by  putting  to  Him 
a  question  on  which  a  great  many  others  hinged, 
and  which  gave  promise  of  a  lively  discussion  in 
which  a  number  of  our  Lord's  opinions  would  be 
expressed  and  a  full  view  of  His  teaching  laid 
open.  He  wished  to  arrive  at  that  kind  of  knowl- 
edge of  our  Lord's  religious  position  and  where 
17  257 


258  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

abouts  which  in  our  own  day  is  sometincs  sought 
to  be  reached  by  putting  the  question,  Do  you  be- 
lieve in  miracles?  or,  Do  you  believe  that  Jesus  is 
truly  and  properly  God  ?  The  question,  however, 
proved  an  unfortunate  one  for  the  scribe's  purpose, 
though  one  of  the  luckiest  ever  put,  in  so  far  as  it 
called  out  one  of  those  Parables  which  the  child 
eagerly  listens  to  and  which  never  throughout  his 
whole  life  cease  to  have  some  influence  upon  him. 

What  answer  the  lawyer  expected  it  is  impossi- 
ble to  say.  Certainly  he  did  not  expect  to  be  re- 
ferred directly  and  solely  to  the  moral  law,  but 
probably  thought  he  should  hear  of  fasts  and 
prayer  and  sacrifices.  And  in  responding  as  he 
did  and  quoting  a  perfect  summary  of  the  law, 
he  no  doubt  anticipated  that  Jesus  would  speak 
of  purely  religious  duties  in  which  the  scribe  w^as 
probably  exemplary,  or  would  at  all  events  take 
off  the  edge  of  the  bare  commandment  by  muf- 
fling it  round  with  a  number  of  observances,  ex- 
planations, and  so  forth.  But  in  place  of  this  he 
is  staggered  by  having  the  naked  law  thrust  home 
upon  himself  as  the  sole  and  sufficient  reply  to 
his  own  question  :  That  is  God's  law  ;  He  asks 
no  more ;  you  already  know  all  His  requirement ; 
do  it,  and  you  live. 

There  is,  of  course,  not  the  smallest  shade  of 
quibble  in  this  answer  of  our  Lord's.  It  is  the 
simple  eternal  truth.  All  we  have  to  do  to  in- 
herit eternal  life  is  to  love.     God  is  love,  and  in 


THE   GOOD   SAMARITAN.  259 

creating  us  He  made  us  such  that  all  we  have  to 
do  is  to  love.  Let  us  only  do  this,  heartily  love 
God  and  our  neighbor,  and  we  fulfil  the  whole  law. 
God  has  given  us  this  feeling  to  be  both  the 
spring  and  regulator  of  all  else,  so  that  if  it  be  in 
life  and  healthy  exercise  all  else  goes  well  with  us. 
To  ask  why  we  may  not  hate  or  neglect,  is  to  ask 
why  we  are  as  we  are,  why  God  has  made  us 
thus?  For  us  eternal  life  is  eternal  love.  Christ 
did  not  come  to  abolish  this  law,  but  to  fulfil  it ; 
to  make  it  possible  to  us  to  keep  this  eternal  law 
of  our  being.  What  we  in  this  generation  have 
to  do  and  to  be  in  order  to  be  eternally  alive,  is, 
of  course,  precisely  the  same  as  what  men  of  any 
generation  have  had  to  do  and  to  be  ;  the  dif- 
ference is,  that  we  have  better  means  of  fulfilling 
the  law. 

The  lawyer,  however,  cannot  allow  his  question 
to  be  so  easily  disposed  of.  He  seeks  to  pursue 
the  subject,  and  accordingly  puts  the  further  ques- 
tion, ''Who  is  my  neighbor?"  The  simplicity 
of  the  answer  of  Jesus  to  his  first  question  must 
have  excited  in  the  minds  of  the  bystanders  some 
suspicion  of  the  scribe's  sincerity.  They  must 
have  felt  that  any  one  professing  to  know  the 
law  might  have  answered  such  a  question  for 
himself.  The  scribe  therefore  "  desiring  to  justify 
himself,"  to  show  that  he  had  a  real  interest  in 
the  subject,  and  that  it  was  not  so  easily  disposed 
of  as  Christ's  answer  implied,  asks  for  a  definition 


26o  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

of  the  term  *'  neighbor."  To  one  trained  as  he 
was,  it  was  a  natural  inquiry,  and  yet  it  betrays 
the  shallowness  of  his  thoughts  on  the  subject. 
No  one  whose  heart  was  filled  with  love  could  have 
asked  such  a  question.  Love  never  seeks  limits, 
but  always  outlets  wider  and  freer.  In  His  reply, 
therefore,  our  Lord  does  not  direct  attention  to 
the  objects  of  love,  but  to  those  who  exercise  it. 
He  does  not  directly  answer  the  question,  "  Who 
is  my  neighbor  ?  " — a  question  that  bore  in  it 
the  hope  that  these  neighbors  might  prove  to  be 
few  and  such  as  might  be  easily  loved — friends, 
relatives,  connections;  but  He  shows,  by  an  in- 
stance of  the  actual  working  of  love,  that  it  makes 
neighbors.  It  is  not  the  defining  of  neighbors 
that  gives  us  the  definition  of  love,  but  the  ex- 
perience of  love  that  defines  for  us  who  are  our 
neighbors.  He  makes  the  lawyer  at  once  see  who 
his  neighbor  is,  by  showing  him  what  love  is.  He 
lets  him  see  that  his  question  cannot  be  asked  by 
a  loving  heart.  Love  is  here,  as  elsewhere,  a  much 
prompter  and  truer  teacher  than  theological  def- 
inition. 

It  is  this,  then,  that  our  Lord  teaches  by  means 
of  the  Parable — that  love,  or  a  merciful  spirit, 
finds  a  neighbor  in  every  one  that  is  in  need  and 
can  be  helped  ;  that  no  tie  of  kindred  or  obligation 
imposed  by  office  is  so  keen-sighted  in  detecting 
a  neighbor  as  love  is.  This  He  illustrates  witji 
the  same  wonderful  readiness  and    finished  per- 


THE   GOOD    SAMARITAN.  261 

fection  and  fertility  of  thought  as  are  displayed 
in  all  the  Parables. 

The  instance  of  misery  or  misfortune  which  our 
Lord  chose  was  one  constantly  occurring.  It  was 
as  common  for  a  man  to  fall  among  thieves  on  the 
Jericho  road  and  be  left  half  dead  as  it  is  now  for 
miners  to  be  killed  by  an  explosion  of  fire-damp 
or  for  men  to  be  maimed  for  life  by  a  machinery 
accident.  So  notorious  had  that  road  become  for 
robbery  and  violence  that  it  was  called  ''  the  red  or 
bloody  way."  It  only  needs  to  be  observed  about 
this  poor  man,  that  he  lay  in  the  most  urgent  need 
of  a  friend,  of  one  who  would  give  him  help,  of  one 
who  would  take  a  little  trouble  and  spend  a  little 
time  over  him.  It  remained  to  be  seen  whether 
such  a  person  would  turn  up. 

The  first  to  come  to  the  spot  was  a  priest,  that 
is,  the  man  of  all  others  bound  to  do  him  a 
friendly  turn.  The  priest  was  not  only  a  Jew,  he 
was  the  representative  of  the  Jews,  the  Jew  by  pre- 
eminence ;  as  especially  Jewish  as  the  British  sailor 
is  especially  British,  and  to  be  counted  on  wher- 
ever a  fellow-countryman  is  in  trouble.  He  was 
by  his  birth  and  by  his  office  the  brother  of  all  his 
race,  not  suffered  to  recognize  one  tribe  more  than 
another,  not  suffered  to  allow  even  his  ov/n  family 
ties  to  draw  him  from  close  attachment  to  all  the 
people.  The  medical  officer  of  a  parish  would 
surely  not  pass  a  man  lying  on  the  road  with  his 
head  cut  open,  or  why  does  he  hold  his  appoint- 


262  THE  PARABLES   OF  OUR  LORD. 

ment  ?  A  soldier  who  has  fallen  wounded  in  a 
retired  part  of  the  field  of  battle  will  hail  it  as  an 
unusually  fortunate  circumstance  if  the  first  man 
that  comes  up  is  the  surgeon  of  his  own  regiment. 
So,  if  this  wounded  Jew  had  strength  enough  to 
see  the  priest  as  he  came  in  sight,  he  must  have 
considered  it  a  remarkably  happy  coincidence 
which  brought  just  the  person  who  might  most 
naturally  be  expected  to  show  him  kindness — one 
who  lived  for  the  people's  good,  and  one  who  had 
just  been  engaged  at  Jerusalem  in  services  well  fit- 
ted to  bring  him  into  sympathy  with  the  various 
distresses  of  men.  If  any  man  might  be  included  in 
the  term  **  neighbor,"  surely  the  priest  might. 

But  the  priest  thought  otherwise.  Like  many 
another  man,  he  was  content  to  do  what  he  was 
obliged  to  do,  and  what  his  ritual  prescribed,  but 
had  none  of  the  spirit  of  his  office.  And  so  it  had 
happened  to  him  as  it  happens  to  all  who  so  use 
their  official  position — it  had  hardened  on  him  as 
a  shell,  and  separated  him  from  his  fellows.  He 
was  not  more  a  man  because  a  priest,  but  less  a 
man.  It  was  not  the  fulness  of  his  humanity  that 
made  him  a  fit  priest ;  but  his  priestliness  actually 
blighted  his  humanity  all  round. 

The  other  order  of  men  who  might  chiefly  have 
been  expected,  from  the  nature  of  their  order  and 
office,  to  be  forward  to  assist  and  put  themselves 
as  public  property  at  the  disposal  of  all,  was  the 
Levitical.     The  insufficiency  of  a  merely  official 


THE   GOOD    SAMARITAN.  263 

tie  is  therefore  further  illustrated  by  our  Lord's 
introduction  of  a  Levite  on  the  scene.  He  also 
sees,  but  turns  his  head  away  and  almost  persuades 
himself  he  does  not  know  his  help  is  needed.  It 
is  as  if  the  English  consul  in  some  Italian  port,  in 
passing  along  the  street,  saw  an  Englishman  being 
assaulted  and  in  danger  of  his  life,  but  instead  of 
interfering  turned  into  a  side  street,  trying  to  per- 
suade himself  that  the  man  was  not  an  English- 
man, or  that  the  quarrel  was  not  serious,  though 
he  saw  blood ;  or  that  the  robbers  were  Govern- 
ment officials  securing  a  culprit. 

It  is  unfortunately  too  easy  for  us  all  to  imagine, 
with  the  aid  of  our  self-knowledge,  what  excuses 
these  men  would  make  for  themselves.  Possibly 
the  priest  knew  the  Levite  was  behind  him,  and 
thought  the  work  fitter  for  him  ;  if  so,  it  is  one 
instance  more  of  the  folly  of  leaving  to  others 
work  which  is  fairly  our  own.  Possibly  both  men 
were  tired  with  their  service  in  Jerusalem,  and 
eager  to  get  home.  Possibly  both  were  a  little 
afraid  of  delaying  in  a  spot  in  which  there  was 
such  speaking  evidence  of  its  insecurity.  Proba- 
bly neither  of  them  cared  to  get  mixed  up  with  a 
business  which  might  involve  them  in  legal  pro- 
ceedings, necessitating  them  to  appear  as  witnesses, 
or  which  might  even  bring  suspicion  on  themselves. 
So  they  passed  by  on  the  other  side — they  tried 
not  to  see  it.  From  our  translation  you  might 
suppose  the  Levite  made  a  more  minute  examina- 


264  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

tion  of  the  man  than  the  priest — "  came  and  looked 
on  him,"  it  says — but  the  words  are  the  same  in 
both  cases.  There  is  no  reason  to  suppose  the 
Levite  was  either  so  much  harder-hearted  that  he 
went  out  of  curiosity  close  up  to  the  man  to  see 
how  he  was  hurt,  nor  that  he  was  so  much  softer- 
hearted  as  to  intend  at  first  to  help  him,  but  found, 
or  persuaded  himself  he  found,  his  wounds  too 
deep  for  skill  of  his.  The  significant  fact  in  both 
cases  is,  that  they  saw  the  man,  but  passed  by  on 
the  other  side,  as  if  trying  to  persuade  themselves 
there  was  no  man  there  and  no  reason  why  they 
should  pause. 

This  conduct,  I  say,  we  can  too  well  under- 
stand. Which  of  us  has  not  been  guilty  of  pass- 
ing by  on  the  other  side,  of  leaving  misery  un- 
relieved because  it  was  not  clamorous?  This 
unfortunate,  lying  half  dead  by  the  roadside, 
could  make  no  importunate  supplications  for 
relief,  could  not  sit  up  and  prove  to  the  priest 
that  it  was  his  duty  to  help  him,  could  not  even 
ask  help,  so  as  to  lay  on  the  priest  the  responsi- 
bility of  positive  refusal ;  and  so  he  got  past 
with  less  discomfort,  but  not  with  less  guilt. 
The  need  is  often  greatest  where  least  is  asked. 
And  how  many  forms  of  misery  are  there  lying 
within  our  knowledge  as  we  journey  along  the 
blood-stained  road  of  life,  but  which  we  pass  by 
because  they  do  not  bar  our  progress  till  we  give 
our  help,  or   because  it  is  possible  for  us  to  put 


THE   GOOD    SAMARITAN.  265 

them  out  of  our  mind  and  live  as  though  these 
things  were  not.  It  is  true  we  could  not  live, 
or  certainly  could  only  live  in  depression  and 
wretchedness,  if  we  kept  constantly  before  our 
minds  all  known  suffering, —  if  we  had  a  vivid 
image  of  the  pain  and  sorrow  at  this  present 
moment  afflicting  thousands  of  gentle  and  inno- 
cent persons, — if  we  set  before  the  mind's  eye  the 
the  hopeless,  wearing  anguish  that  is  hidden  in 
every  hospital  in  this  and  other  lands,  the  blank 
despair  that  numbs  the  spirit  of  whole  tribes 
swept  into  slavery  under  the  crudest  oppression, 
the  various  miseries  and  difficulties  which  desolate 
life  and  cause  many  and  many  a  victim  to  curse 
the  day  of  his  birth.  To  go  about  our  ordinary 
duties  with  all  this  present  to  our  mind  would  be 
as  impossible  as  to  live  in  peace,  or  to  live  at  all, 
if  our  senses  were  acute  enough  to  make  audible 
to  us  all  the  noise  within  a  radius  of  two  or  three 
miles,  or  to  make  visible  to  us  all  that  exists  un- 
seen. But  the  passing  by  on  the  other  side  which 
leaves  guilt  upon  the  conscience  is  the  putting 
aside  of  distress  that  comes  naturally  before  us, 
and  the  refusing  to  assist  where  circumstances 
give  us  the  opportunity  of  assisting.  A  lost 
child  is  crying  on  the  street,  but  it  is  awkward  to 
be  seen  leading  a  dirty,  crying  child  home,  so  we 
refuse  to  notice  that  the  child  is  lost  ;  a  man  is 
lying  as  if  he  were  ill,  but  he  may  only  be  in- 
toxicated, and    it    looks  foolish  to  meddle,  and 


266  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

may  be  troublesome,  so  we  leave  him  to  others, 
though  another  minute  in  that  position  may,  for 
all  we  know,  make  the  difference  between  life  and 
death.  You  read  a  paragraph  of  a  paper  giving 
a  thrilling  account  of  a  famine  in  China,  or  some 
other  great  calamity ;  but  when  yoi.  come  to  a 
clause  intimating  that  subscriptions  will  be  re- 
ceived at  such  and  such  a  place,  you  pass  to 
another  column,  and  refuse  to  allow  that  to  make 
the  impression  on  your  mind  which  you  feel  it  is 
beginning  to  make.  In  short,  you  will,  in  these 
and  many  like  circumstances,  wait  till  you  are 
asked  to  help  ;  you  know  you  could  not  in 
decency  refuse  if  you  were  asked,  if  the  matter 
were  fully  laid  before  you  and  all  the  circumstances 
detailed,  but  you  will  put  yourself  out  of  reach 
before  this  can  be  done  ;  you  will  not  expose 
yourself  to  the  risk  of  having  your  charitable  feel- 
ings stirred,  or  at  any  rate  of  having  your  help 
drawn  upon  ;  you  will,  if  possible,  wipe  the  thing 
from  your  mind,  you  will  carefully  avoid  follow- 
ing up  any  clue,  or  considering  steadily  any  hint 
or  suggestion  of  suffering. 

But,  as  we  have  said,  it  was  not  just  another 
man,  or  just  another /r^c,  that  came  and  saw  this 
man  lying  in  his  blood,  it  was,  both  in  the  case 
of  the  priest  and  Levite,  one  who  had  a  special 
tie  or  obligation  to  be  compassionate.  These 
men  were  supposed  to  be  a  kind  of  embodied 
and  living  law  of  God,  an  incarnate  compassion, 


THE   GOOD   SAMARITAN.  267 

a  reflex  on  earth  of  the  mercy  of  the  Most  High. 
They  of  all  men  should  have  recognized  this  Jew- 
as  their  brother.  Their  peculiar  guilt  is  ours 
when  we  repudiate  any  special  responsibility,  and 
make  as  though  there  were  no  tie  between  us 
and  the  object  needing  help.  And  happy  are 
they  who  can  say  that  at  least  of  this  special 
guilt  they  are  free, — who  have  really  filled  up 
with  active  love  all  the  relationships  of  life  by 
which  God  has  brought  them  into  connection 
with  others,  and  who  cannot  reproach  themselves 
with  failing  to  see  what  any  friend,  servant, 
relative  required,  or,  having  seen  it,  to  do  it  for 
them, — who  know  no  instance  in  which  they 
failed  to  bring  assistance  because  it  was  of  a 
troublesome  kind,  or  of  a  kind  that  would  have 
brought  them  into  connection  with  disreputable 
people,  or  would  have  made  them  look  foolish 
or  meddling  or  romantic.  Surely  if  not  in 
your  own  case,  then  in  the  case  of  others,  you 
see  that  it  is  not  always  the  relationship  that 
gives  the  love,  but  the  love  that  makes  the  re- 
lationship,— that  there  is  often  a  friend  that 
sticketh  closer  than  a  brother — an  outlaw  from 
the  faith  that  is  more  substantially  helpful,  wiser 
and  readier  in  advice  and  prompter  in  lending  a 
hand,  than  one  belonging  to  the  same  "  household 
of  faith."  Had  you  met  this  Levite  after  seeing 
his  conduct,  would  you  not  have  been  tempted  to 
say  to  him,  What  are  you  a  Levite  for,  if  not  to 


268  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR    LORD. 

give  such  help?  If  you  encountered  a  police 
official  who  carefully  avoided  all  dangerous  and 
troublesome  interference,  would  you  not  be  apt 
to  challenge  his  right  to  retain  his  post  ?  But 
might  we  not  turn  our  challenge  on  ourselves, 
and  say  to  ourselves,  Why  are  )^ou  a  Christian  ? 
what  do  you  unite  yourself  to  Christ  for?  Is  it 
not  that  you  may  be  able  to  do  good,  to  be  help- 
ful, to  become  salt  to  the  earth,  and  of  excep- 
tional value  among  men?  If,  then,  you  shrink 
from  all  exceptional  duty,  from  all  that  calls  for 
trouble  and  real  sacrifice,  from  all  that  puts  you 
seriously  about,  what  is  the  good  of  your  Christian- 
ity ?    where  does  it  go  ? 

But  while  there  are  men  whose  lack  of  human- 
ity empties  their  relationships  and  every  office 
they  hold  of  all  service  to  others,  save  only  what 
they  are  rigidly  bound  to  by  the  letter  of  their 
engagement,  and  compelled  to  by  the  insistence 
or  observance  of  others,  there  are  also  men  whose 
love  throws  out  sympathies  on  all  sides,  invents 
obligations  where  no  claim  could  be  enforced, 
and  breaks  through  restrictions  naturally  hindering 
them  from  interference.  So  far  from  seeking  ex- 
cuse for  not  helping,  they  invent  excuses  for  help- 
ing, or  are  unconscious  that  excuses  are  needed. 
Of  this  class  of  men  the  Good  Samaritan  is  the 
mortal  type — the  once-drawn  picture  of  the 
master-hand  that  needs  no  added  touch.  In  him 
you  see  that  it  it  is  love  that  makes  the  differ- 


THE   GOOD    SAMARITAN.  269 

ence ;  that  in  the  time  of  need  a  compassionate 
heart  is  to  more  purpose  than  any  tie,  engage- 
ment, office,  or  bond.  All  the  excuses  the  others 
had  might  have  been  his,  and  many  more.  He 
was  not  bound  to  the  man  by  any  tie  of  country, 
he  was  not  even  a  mere  foreigner,  but  was  of  the 
Samaritans,  who  had  no  dealings  with  the  Jews. 
What  the  Christian  is  to  the  Mohammedan,  the 
Jew  was  to  the  Samaritan.  Born  among  a  people 
whose  most  active  energy  was  spent  in  demon- 
strations of  enmity  against  the  Jews,  part  of  his 
education  must  have  been  to  annoy  and  per- 
secute. Neither  was  this  man  an  official  like  the 
priest,  who  might  have  been  greeted  with  a  re- 
spectful salutation  had  the  man  been  in  a  con- 
dition to  have  given  it,  and  who  would  probably 
have  resented  the  omission  of  such  a  token  of  re- 
spect ;  but  he  was  an  alien  who  would  more  likely 
have  read  the  expression  of  a  mocking  hatred  on 
the  face  of  the  passer-by,  or  have  even  been 
greeted  with  cursing,  or  *'  Thou  art  a  Samaritan, 
and  hast  a  devil."  But  over  all  these  influences 
love  triumphs,  and  he  with  whom  this  wounded 
Jew  would  at  any  other  time  have  contemptuously 
refused  to  deal  has  now  dealings  with  him  of  a 
very  touching  nature.  That  is  to  say,  it  is  love 
that  makes  man  neighbor  to  man.  The  true 
neighbor  is  the  man  who  has  a  compassionate 
heart  and  a  friendly  spirit.  Where  this  is  want- 
ing, it   avails   not  that  a  man  lives  next  door, 


2/0  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

or  belongs  to  the  same  congregation,  c  '*'-  a 
member  of  the  same  club  or  union  or  profession ; 
it  ought  to  be  so  that  these  external  associations 
quicken  our  friendliness,  and  so  they  often  do,  and 
where  love  exists  they  find  expression  for  it  in 
many  suitable  ways;  but  these  external  bonds 
can  never  supply  the  place  of  love.  No  doubt 
the  people  who  saw  how  careful  the  Samaritan 
was  of  his  protege  would  say,  He  must  be  his 
brother,  or  his  neighbor,  or  an  old  friend ;  for  the 
truth  is,  that  genuine  compassion  and  affection 
make  a  man  brother,  neighbor,  and  friend  of  all. 
It  is  not,  then,  by  any  marks  in  others  that  you 
can  test  who  is  your  neighbor ;  it  is  not  by  the 
marks  of  race,  neighborhood,  religion,  common 
pursuits,  old  friendships,  not  by  anything  in  them 
at  all  you  can  determine ;  but  only  by  what  is  in 
yourself,  namely,  humanity  of  disposition,  friend- 
liness, compassion,  or  whatever  name  you  choose 
to  give  it.  Love  alone  can  determine  who  is  your 
neighbor. 

Another  point  is  incidentally  brought  out  by  our 
Lord.  Love  does  not  ask,  What  claim  has  this 
man  and  that  man  on  me?  but,  What  does 
this  or  that  man  need  that  I  can  do  for  him  ?  It 
must  have  been,  and  it  still  is,  an  edifying  sight  to 
see  the  completeness  of  the  Samaritan's  attentions 
— to  see  him  kneeling  with  the  interested,  anxious 
eye  of  a  friend  by  the  side  of  the  Jew,  gently  rais- 
ing   his  head,  cleansing  his  wounds,   mollifying 


THE   GOOD    SAMARITAN.  2'Jl 

t>>T-  A\\\  oil,  binding  them  with  strips  torn  from 
the  first  thing  that  came  to  hand,  restoring  in 
him  the  grateful  desire  of  life,  and  greeting  his 
return  to  consciousness  with  the  strength-giving 
congratulations  of  genuine  affection.  We  might 
suppose  he  had  now  done  enough.  How  is  his 
own  business  to  go  forward  if  he  thus  delays  ? 
But  love  is  not  so  soon  satisfied.  He  sits  by 
him  till  he  is  strong  enough  to  be  set  on  his 
beast,  and  does  not  resign  his  charge  to  any  other. 
He  does  not  feel  that  the  robbed  man  is  off  his 
hands  when  he  has  got  him  to  an  inn.  He  has 
himself  to  go  on  his  journey,  but  he  will  not  on 
that  account,  nor  on  any  account,  disconnect 
himself  from  the  man  ;  he  will  disconnect  himself 
from  him  only  when  he  needs  no  more  assistance. 
This  is  love's  way.  To  be  asking,  How  far  am  I 
to  go  in  helping  others?  shows  we  have  not  love. 
To  be  asking,  To  what  extent  must  I  love  ? 
Where  can  I  stop  ?  Whom  can  I  exclude  ?  and 
From  what  sacrifices  may  I  reasonably  turn  away  ? 
is  simply  to  prove  that  we  have  not  as  yet  the 
essential  thing,  a  loving  spirit ;  for  love  asks  no 
such  questions,  but  ever  seeks  for  wider  and  wider 
openings. 

This,  then,  is  our  Lord's  answer  to  the  ques- 
tion. How  shall  I  inherit  eternal  life?  The  an- 
swer is.  Love  as  this  Samaritan  did.  You  will 
not  receive  eternal  life  as  the  reward  of  doing 
so,  in  the  sense  that,  having  now  helped  men  and 


272     THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

/  sacrificed  for  them,  you  shall  enter  into  an  eternity 
in  which  you  may  cease  doing  so,  and  live  in 
some  other  relation  to  them.  Not  so.  But  by 
loving  men  thus  you  hereby  enter  into  that  state 
of  spirit  and  that  relation  to  your  fellow-men 
which  is  eternal  life,  the  only  eternal  relation  pos- 
sible. What  more  can  you  be  asked  to  do  than 
to  love  those  you  have  to  do  with  ?  It  is  that 
which  will  alone  enable  you  to  fulfil  all  duty  to 
them.  You  need  not  ask.  What  is  due  to  this 
man  or  that,  how  much  service,  how  much  assist- 
ance, how  much  substantial  help  ?  These  are  very 
useful  questions  where  there  is  no  love,  but  they 
are  never  sufficient,  and  they  are  therefore  all  sum- 
marily dismissed  by  Paul  in  his  brief  rule,  ''Owe  no 
man  anything,  but  to  love  one  another," — that  is 
the  one  debt  always  due,  never  paid  off,  always  re- 
newed, and  that  covers  all  others.  You  are  meant  to 
live  happily  and  strongly  and  sweetly  ;  the  relations 
of  society  part  to  part  are  meant  to  move  as  sweetly 
as  the  finest  machinery,  and  love  alone  can  accom- 
plish this.  It  is  a  mere  groping  after  harmony 
and  order  and  social  well-being  that  we  are  occu- 
pied with  while  we  try  to  adjust  class  to  class,  na- 
tion to  nation,  man  to  man,  by  outward  laws  or 
defined   positions. 

One  of  our  most  popular  teachers,  Emerson, 
is  indeed  bold  enough  to  say,  in  direct  contradic- 
tion  to  this  Parable,  ''  Do  not  tell  me,  as  a  good 
man  did  to-day,  of  my  obligation  to  put  all  poor 


THE   GOOD  SAMARITAN.  2/3 

men  in  good  situations.  Are  they  ;;?/ poor?  I 
tell  thee,  thou  foolish  philanthropist,  that  I  grudge 
the  dollar,  the  dime,  the  cent,  I  give  to  such  men 
as  do  not  belong  to  me,  and  to  whom  I  do  not 
belong.  There  is  a  class  of  persons  to  whom,  by- 
all  spiritual  affinity,  I  am  bought  and  sold ;  for 
them  I  will  go  to  prison  if  need  be."  Him  we 
may  well  leave  to  be  answered  by  that  deeper- 
seeing  heathen,  who  said,  "  Nature  bids  me  assist 
men ;  and  whether  they  be  bond  or  free,  gentle- 
folk or  freedmen,  what  matter  ?  Wherever  a  man 
is,  there  is  room  for  doing  good."  To  obey 
Emerson's  law  would  be  to  introduce  into  a  world 
already  sufficiently  broken  up  into  sects,  classes, 
and  parties,  a  division  more  alienating  and  inex- 
tinguishable than  creed  distinctions,  more  bitter 
and  personal  than  race  hatred,  more  irreconcilable 
and  truly  hardening  than  class  separation. 

We  may  therefore  measure  ourselves  thus,  and 
thus  we  may  see  what  our  religion  has  done  for 
us.  Our  Lord  came  to  set  us  right  with  one 
another ;  to  put  us  on  a  footing  with  those  with 
whom  we  are  to  spend  eternity,  such  as  shall  make 
it  possible  to  us  to  do  so.  He  said,  again  and 
again,  "  This  is  the  command  I  give  unto  you, 
that  ye  love  one  another."  This  is  one  half  of 
our  salvation,  one  half  which  involves  the  other, 
and  you  may  measure  the  help  you  have  re- 
ceived from  Christ  and  ascertain  in  how  far 
you  are  a  saved  person  by  the  ability  you  have 


274  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR    LORD. 

to  keep  this  command.  This  is  the  test  John 
gives  :  "  We  know  that  we  have  passed  from  death 
to  life."  How?  ''  Because  we  love  the  brethren." 
How  is  it,  then,  with  ourselves  ?  While  Christ 
tells  us  we  should  not  hesitate  even  to  lay  down 
our  lives  for  the  brethren,  that  is  to  say  should 
not  be  behind  even  natural  generosity,  which  week 
by  week  prompts  men  to  sacrifice  life  for  others, 
even  for  persons  they  could  not  name, — while 
Christ  leaves  us  this  command,  and  illustrates  it 
by  His  whole  life,  do  we  grudge  to  live  uncom- 
fortably for  our  brethren?  This  comfort  and 
that  we  raise  to  the  rank  of  necessities,  and 
limit  our  givings  and  our  sympathies.  But  love 
sweeps  away  such  necessities,  and  shows  itself  the 
highest  law  of  all.  If  still  you  say,  W/iat  are  we 
to  do  for  others  ?  is  it  not  enough  to  give  what 
law  and  decency  require  us  to  give  ?  is  it  not 
enough  to  forbear  doing  harm,  speaking  evil,  in- 
flicting injury?  your  Lord  has  but  the  one  an- 
swer :  Love  them  first  of  all,  and  see  what  \yill 
come  of  that. 


THE  RICH  FOOL. 

Luke  xii.  13-21. 

This  is  yet  another  Parable  in  which  our  Lord 
illustrates  the  attitude  He  expects  us  to  assume 
towards  the  world  and  its  goods.  It  was  occa- 
sioned by  an  unusually  blunt  exhibition  of  world- 
liness.  Our  Lord  had  been  assuring  His  disciples 
that  if  they  were  brought  into  court,  the  Holy 
Ghost  would  teach  them  what  to  say.  There  is 
a  man  in  the  crowd  to  whom,  at  last,  the  words 
of  Jesus  begin  to  seem  practical ;  courts,  lawsuits, 
inheritances,  were  the  staple  of  his  thoughts,  and 
the  familiar  words  make  him  prick  his  ears.  This 
ability  to  speak  in  courts  is  the  very  thing  he  has 
been  seeking.  If  Jesus  has  it,  He  will  possibly 
be  good  enough  to  use  it  for  him,  and  so  he  will 
get  his  law  gratis,  as  well  as  recover  his  share  in 
the  inheritance.  This  is  a  delightful  prospect, 
too  good  an  opportunity  to  let  slip.  And  so, 
utterly  blind  to  the  kind  of  interests  our  Lord 
had  at  heart,  utterly  regardless  of  the  crowd,  pos- 
sessed with  the  one  thought  that  for  months  and 
years  had  consumed  him,  and  seeing  only  that 
Jesus  had  great  wisdom  and  justice,  a  remarkable 

275 


2/6     THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

faculty  of  putting  things  in  their  right  light,  and 
an  authoritative  manner,  which  surely  not  even 
his  brother  could  resist,  he  blurts  out—''  Master, 
speak  to  my  brother,  that  he  divide  the  inherit- 
ance with  me." 

To  one  whose  interests  are  religious,  or  polit- 
ical, or  literary,  or  scientific,  it  is  always  amus- 
ing to  see  the  unbounded  importance  which  many 
men  whose  business  is  in  money  attach  to  their 
department  of  affairs,  and  the  unaffected  earnest- 
ness with  which  they  discuss  them.  There  is  a 
solemnity  in  their  manner  when  they  speak  of 
large  sums  ;  they  seem  to  grow  and  swell  with  the 
amounts  they  name,  a  mystery  and  awe  in  their 
tone  as  they  tell  of  big  transactions,  a  pompous 
and  grand  dignity  as  they  give  the  history  of 
some  bit  of  property,  which  is  abundantly  in- 
structive. They  turn  from  religious  talk  to  this 
monetary  style  with  the  air  of  one  who  should 
say,  Religion  is  all  very  well  as  a  pleasing  specu- 
lation or  emotional  tonic,  but  this  other  is  the 
reality ;  let  us  now  put  aside  all  mere  play  of  the 
imagination  and  turn  to  the  substantial  affairs  of 
life.  They  constantly  betray  the  understanding 
on  which  they  live,  the  understanding  that  every- 
thing must  give  way  to  business,  that  it  is  the 
real  thread  on  which  life  is  strung. 

The  egotism  of  worldliness  was  never  exhibited 
in  a  more  barefaced,  naked,  shameless  form.  Here 
had  this  man,  through  all  our   Lord's  conversa- 


THE   RICH   FOOL.  277 

tion,  been  thinking  his  own  worldly  thoughts; 
what  he  gathers  from  all  our  Lord  has  been  say- 
ing is,  that  He  would  make  a  good  lawyer ;  and 
the  best  thing  he  can  imagine  that  Christ,  with 
His  felt  authority  and  goodness,  can  do  for  him, 
is  to  help  him  to  a  better  income.  He  is  sensible 
of  Christ's  power ;  if  he  was  informed  that  He 
had  come  down  from  heaven,  he  would  not  be 
disposed  to  question  it.  What  is  it  then,  as  he 
stands  in  presence  of  this  highest  beneficence, 
that  he  will  claim ;  what  is  it,  now,  that  he  finds 
his  opportunity,  that  he  will  have  ?  That  half- 
acre  his  brother  has  kept  him  out  of.  So  are  men 
judged  by  their  wishes  and  cravings. 

In  many  small  towns  you  find  harmless  luna- 
tics, who  are  glad  to  find  a  stranger  on  their 
streets  whom  they  can  lay  hold  of,  and  pour  out 
their  wrongs  to,  and  repeat  the  old  story  of  their 
claims  to  this  estate  or  that  title  or  handsome  for- 
tune. One  would  be  glad  to  think  this  man  was 
such  an  irresponsible  creature,  who,  merely  recog- 
nizing in  our  Lord  a  strange  face,  gave  utterance 
to  his  one  constant  demand,  *'  Speak  to  my 
brother,  that  he  divide  the  inheritance."  But 
covetousness  and  lunacy  are  always  so  nearly  al- 
lied that  this  man  can  scarcely  be  considered  as 
showing  any  special  signs  of  lunacy.  We  can  all 
detect  in  ourselves  the  germs  of  his  character. 
We  know  how  possible  it  is  to  retain  a  grasping 
disposition  and  avaricious  purposes  through  very 


278  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

solemn  converse  with  things  spiritual.  We  know 
what  it  is  to  let  some  one  important  affair  take 
such  possession  of  our  thoughts  that,  for  the  time, 
God  and  all  spiritual  things  are  as  though  they 
were  not.  Nay,  do  we  not  know  what  it  is  to  cal- 
culate on  the  influence  of  Christ  moving  some  one 
to  do  us  a  worldly  advantage,  which  otherwise  we 
could  not  hope  for? 

What  a  contrast  did  these  two  central  figures 
of  the  crowd  present !  This  man  in  whom  no 
response  whatever  is  found  to  anything  spiritual, 
who  can  stand  and  listen  to  God  Incarnate  and 
be  conscious  of  no  new  desires,  no  new  world 
opening  to  his  hope, — this  poor  shrunken  crea 
ture  on  the  one  hand,  and  on  the  oth^r  Jesus,  in 
whose  eye  no  answering  sparkle  met  the  £^iitter 
of  gold,  who  could  listen  to  talk  about  disputed 
successions  and  undivided  properties  without  the 
smallest  interest,  who  could  not  be  tempted  to 
assume  authority  in  affairs  where  the  arbiter 
would  not  be  forgotten.  What  our  Lord  con- 
tinued throughout  His  life  to  do.  He  did  here — 
refused  to  interfere  in  civil  matters,  repelling  in- 
dignantly the  idea  that  He  was  to  be  used  as 
a  petty  magistrate.  Not  that  the  kingdom  He 
had  come  to  establish  was  to  have  no  influence 
on  the  world,  for  it  was  destined  to  influence  its 
minutest  affair,  but  this  was  all  to  come  about  in 
a  regular  way  ;  the  hearts  of  men  were  to  be 
Christianized,  and  they  being  so,  all  other  things 


THE   RICH   FOOL.  279 

would  feel  the  influence.  Our  Lord  would  not 
spend  a  word  in  composing  that  fraternal  differ- 
ence, but  He  would  spend  all  the  force  of  His 
teaching  on  extirpating  the  cause  of  the  differ^ 
ence.  "  Man,  who  made  me  a  judge  or  a  divider 
over  you  ?  "  He  said,  but  also,  ''  Take  heed,  and 
beware  of  covetousness."  If  our  Lord,  who  saw 
in  every  case  what  was  right  to  be  done,  refused 
to  intermeddle,  how  much  more  should  we  limit 
ourselves  to  what  is  our  own  sphere,  who  neither 
clearly  and  wholly  understand,  nor  are  wise  to 
act.  A  great  part  of  the  mischief  that  is  done  in 
the  world  comes  of  men  overstepping  the  region 
with  which  they  are  familiar,  and  in  which  they 
are  authoritative.  It  is  amazing  to  hear  with 
what  boldness  and  unsuspecting  confidence  men 
pronounce  upon  matters  with  which  they  have 
had  the  most  meager  acquaintance. 

It  was  the  shock  produced  by  this  man's  naive 
display  of  his  absorbing  worldliness  which  made 
our  Lord  at  once  turn  to  the  crowd  with  the 
words,  "  Take  heed,  and  beware  of  covetousness  : 
for  a  man's  life  consisteth  not  in  the  abundance 
of  the  things  he  possesseth."  This,  then,  is 
pointed  out  as  the  great  snare  of  covetousness, 
that  it  tends  to  make  a  man  identify  himself  with 
his  possessions  and  rate  himself  by  them.  This 
is  what  our  Lord  here  lays  His  finger  on,  as  being 
especially  disastrous  in  this  vice  ;  it  blinds  a  man 


280     THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD, 

to  the  fact  that  he  remains  forever  distinct  from 
his  possessions ;  that  he  is  one  thing,  his  posses- 
sions another  ;  that  he  and  they  cannot  be  amal- 
gamated, but  must  remain  separate  in  essence  and 
in  destiny. 

That  covetousness  has  this  tendency  every  one 
knows.  The  man  who  values  himself  for  what 
he  has,  and  not  for  what  he  is,  the  man  who 
fancies  himself  great  because  his  possessions  are 
great,  is  one  of  the  most  familiar  objects  of  ridi- 
cule. But  take  heed,  for  there  is  a  current  set- 
ting that  way  which  all  of  us  feel  the  force  of. 
Money-making  is  one  of  the  most  obvious  and 
convenient  goals  which  a  man  can  choose  for  him- 
self in  life.  Many  men,  when  young,  are  sadly 
at  a  loss  what  to  make  of  life,  and  are  burdened 
with  their  capabilities.  They  know  they  can  do 
something,  but  cannot  determine  what.  They 
have  not  tested  themselves,  and  cannot  say  what 
might  be  the  prudent  course.  They  have  no 
strong  natural  bent  towards  any  particular  calling. 
Now  to  realize  a  competence  supplies  an  aim,  easily 
thought  of  and  easily  held  in  view.  To  make  a 
fortune  is  an  appreciable  result,  that  a  man  may 
spend  his  effort  on  and  measure  his  progress  by. 
If  it  be  made,  there  it  is  to  show,  it  is  actual 
visible  achievement,  a  monument  of  labor  spent. 
And  in  the  course  towards  the  goal  there  is  a 
great  deal  of  satisfaction,  there  is  evident  prog- 
ress.    A  man  is  fallen  very  low  indeed,  if  he  is 


THE   RICH   FOOL.  28 1 

not  at  all  concerned  to  know  that  he  is  making 
any  advance  one  way  or  another.  Now,  men  can 
very  soon  learn  the  art  of  measuring  their  prog- 
ress, not  by  themselves,  or  their  own  personal 
growth,  not  by  any  ripeness  of  character  and  real 
internal  acquisition,  but  by  mere  outward,  mate- 
rial gain.  They  are  content  with  some  little  glows 
of  satisfaction  that  they  are  rising  in  the  world, 
that  they  are  able  this  year  to  command  some 
luxuries  that  were  last  year  beyond  their  reach, 
and  especially  that  this  actual  thing,  money,  has 
increased  in  their  hands.  This  is  the  way  we 
practically  come  to  measure  ourselves  by  what  we 
have,  and  to  think  that  our  life  consists  in  the 
abundance  of  the  things  we  possess. 

And  what  our  Lord  insists  upon  here,  and  seeks 
to  impress  us  with,  is  the  folly  and  disaster  of  so 
doing.  He  shows  us  that  a  man  and  his  posses- 
sions are  distinct ;  that  a  man*s  life  is  not  longer 
nor  happier  in  proportion  to  what  he  has ;  that 
the  man,  the  living  soul,  is  one  thing,  the  goods 
another ;  that  he  goes  one  way,  they  another  ; 
and  that  by  no  ingenuity  can  a  man  get  himself 
and  his  property  so  united  that  he  shall  be  beauti- 
ful, strong,  lasting  as  it  is.  He  may  fill  his  shelves 
with  the  wisest  and  most  elevating  books,  and  yet 
remain  illiterate ;  he  may  gather  round  him  pre- 
cious works  of  art,  and  be  a  clown  and  a  boor  ;  he 
may  buy  up  a  county,  and  be  the  smallest  souled 
man  in  it ;  he  may  erect  a  mansion  which  will  last 


282  THE    PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

for  ten  generations,  and  may  not  have  ten  years 
of  life  or  ten  minutes  of  health  to  enjoy  it.  A 
man's  possessions  obstinately  stand  off  from  him- 
self. Naturally  we  all  feel  that  we  are  expanding 
and  enlarging  ourselves  in  extending  our  posses- 
sions, that  we  are  more  firmly  rooting  ourselves 
on  earth  ;  in  each  of  them  we  seem  to  have  a  mir- 
ror reflecting  ourselves,  and  each  of  them  adds  to 
our  importance.  Our  Lord,  therefore,  presents  to 
our  view  a  man  who  has  abundant,  superabundant 
possessions,  but  has  no  life  left.  He  had  laid  up 
goods  in  abundance,  and  reckoned  on  life  in  abun- 
dance, a  long,  full,  lively  life.  He  forgot  the  dis- 
tinction, but  it  was  made  nevertheless.  He  is 
shown  to  us  separate  from  his  possessions,  and 
transferred  to  a  sphere  where,  like  old-world  coins, 
their  value  is  unknown  and  they  can  neither  be 
accounted,  used,  nor  enjoyed. 

The  rich  man  of  the  parable  is  represented  as 
one  of  the  exceptionally  favored  children  of  for- 
tune. He  had  already  become  wealthy  at  an  age 
at  which  he  might  naturally  count  upon  having 
several  years  of  enjoyment.  His  wealth,  too,  had 
been  acquired,  not  by  hard  fatiguing  labor,  but  in 
that  line  of  life  in  which,  more  than  in  any  other, 
a  man's  time  is  his  own,  and  he  can  work  or  play 
as  he  feels  disposed.  And  especially  it  is  to  be 
remarked  that  no  sin  attached  to  his  money-mak- 
ing ;  he  had  not  made  his  money  by  gambling, 
he  had  not  profited  by  another  man's  disaster,  no 


THE    RICH    FOOL.  283 

one  was  the  loser  for  his  winnings,  it  was  the 
honest,  unsulHed  gift  of  Heaven  to  him  ;  his  fields 
yielded  enormously.  But  as  a  sudden  and  great 
alteration  of  circumstances  is  the  best  revealer  of 
what  a  man  really  is,  this  sudden  wealth  disclosed 
a  selfishness  in  this  land-holder  of  which  before 
he  had  perhaps  not  been  suspected. 

The  manner  in  which  his  wealth  had  come  to 
him  sets  his  ingratitude  to  God  in  a  stronger 
light.  Though  his  wealth  had  come  to  him 
through  that  medium  which  is  most  evidently  at 
God's  discretion,  so  evidently  that  even  men 
who  are  ungodly  in  other  matters  make  some 
show  of  acknowledging  that  years  of  famine  and 
years  of  plenty  depend  on  God's  will, — though 
the  gifts  of  God  had  come  to  him  by  the  shortest 
route,  as  if  from  and  out  of  God's  very  hand,  un- 
hidden by  any  complicated  transactions  with 
men, — though  his  wealth  had  been  built  up  by 
the  elements,  whose  influence  he  could  neither 
command  nor  restrain, — yet  he  seizes  and  claims 
as  his  own  the  fruits  of  his  fields,  as  if  he  had  been 
the  maker  of  them,  as  if  no  one  else  had  spent  any- 
thing on  them,  and  as  if  he  had  to  consult  no  one 
but  himself  as  to  their  disposal.  What  most  men 
would  have  decency  if  not  devotion  enough  to  call 
a  Godsend,  he  calls  a  windfall,  and  gathers  up  as 
his  very  own.  A  great  success  solemnizes  some 
men  ;  they  hurry  home  and  fall  on  their  knees ; 
they  are  ashamed  of  so  much  goodness  coming 


284  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

to  men  so  unworthy,  and  they  hasten  to  make 
acknowledgment.  Serious-minded  men  who  en- 
gage in  business  not  for  the  mere  excitement  and 
gain  of  it,  walk  in  God's  presence,  and  bear  in 
mind  that  the  silver  and  the  gold  are  His,  that 
promotion  cometh  not  from  the  north  or  south 
by  the  wind  that  happens  to  be  blowing,  and  are 
therefore  ever  ready  to  say,  What  shall  I  render 
to  the  Lord  for  all  His  benefits  toward  me?  Can 
anything  be  more  pitiable  than  the  man  who 
stands  at  his  counting-house  door  and  forbids 
God's  entrance  while  his  balance  is  being  struck, 
who  does  not  care  that  God  should  know  how 
much  he  made  last  year,  but  goes  and  prays  that 
this  God  would  give  him  success  this  year  ?  Is  it 
not  astonishing  how  religious  men  who  profess  to 
live  for  God,  should  so  carefully  keep  Him  from 
interfering  in  their  money  matters,  that  is,  in 
those  matters  round  which  their  life  really  re- 
volves? If  we  cannot  go  before  God  and  frankly 
say,  This  is  what  I  have  made  this  year,  and  I 
could  not  have  made  it  but  for  Thee  and  Thy 
help, — this  is  because  we  fear  God  will  claim  too 
much,  and  prompt  us  to  use  it  as  we  are  not  pre- 
pared to  do.  Must  there  not  be  something  wrong 
if  we  are  not  letting  God's  eye  and  judgment 
fully  and  freely  into  every  transaction  we  engage 
in,  and  every  gain  we  make  ? 

In  the  case  of  this  rich  man,  certainly  his  blind- 
ness to  the  source  of  his  wealth  and  the  bad  use 


THE   RICH   FOOL.  28$ 

he  made  of  it  did  hang  together.  He  missed  the 
opportunity  of  being  God's  almoner,  of  dispens- 
ing God's  bounty  to  the  needy.  He  did  not  rec- 
ognize that  it  was  the  Lord  who  gave,  and 
therefore  it  was  not  the  Lord's  poor  who  got. 
The  goods  are  his  goods — he  can't  get  past  that ; 
he  may  do  what  he  likes  with  them,  he  cannot 
see  that  there  is  any  other  vote  or  voice  in  the 
matter.  In  what  sense  the  fulness  of  the  world 
is  God's  he  has  no  mind  to  consider.  His  barns 
are  bursting,  he  has  more  wealth  than  he  knows 
what  to  do  with  ;  but  one  thing  is  certain,  it  must 
all  be  spent  on  himself.  You  would  suppose  he 
had  never  seen  a  hungry  child  in  his  life ;  you 
would  suppose  he  had  never  met  a  beggar,  or 
seen  a  blind  man  or  a  cripple  in  his  market  town. 
"Where  shall  I  bestow  my  goods  ?  "  This  was 
his  difficulty,  and  yet  he  had  the  world  before 
him,  a  world  filled  with  want,  abundant  in  misery, 
rich  in  cases  of  need.  How  many  hundreds 
there  were  who  could  have  given  him  very  pointed 
and  definite  directions  !  how  many  who  would 
quickly  have  relieved  him  from  his  perplexity ! 
how  many  at  that  very  hour,  when  he  was  wonder- 
ing what  he  could  do  with  his  superfluity,  were 
tortured  by  the  opposite  perplexity,  wondering 
where  they  could  get  bread  for  these  pale,  ap- 
pealing children,  where  they  could  find  tempo- 
rary aid  to  help  them  through  a  year  of  disaster  ! ; 
Among  all  the  investments  he  had  heard  and 


286  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

thought  of,  there  was  one  prospectus  he  had  ap- 
parently not  seen,  that  to  which  God  has  put 
His  name,  "  He  that  giveth  to  the  poor,  lendeth 
to  the  Lord."  He  did  not  apprehend  that  their 
bare  and  empty  homes  would  be  better  houses 
of  investment  than  his  own  locked  and  useless 
barns. 

It  is  no  more  than  what  thousands  of  rich  men, 
and  of  men  who  are  not  rich,  every  day  do  ;  he 
would  not  be  in  the  Parable  if  he  were  excep- 
tional. He  is  here  because  he  is  typical — typical 
of  the  men  who,  in  considering  how  they  shall 
invest  their  gains,  lo(/k  only  to  their  own  interests, 
— who,  in  considering  their  next  step,  have  chiefly 
in  view,  what  advaitage  can  I  win  for  myself? 
and  who  do  not  cofisider  what  good  they  can  do. 
Life  is  constructed  almost  entirely  on  selfish 
principles:  businrr/.s  is  carried  on  upon  the  under- 
standing that  ev'Vy  man  must  look  out  for  him- 
self. One  of  th't  many  benefits  of  war  is,  that  it 
counteracts  this  selfishness ;  men  learn  to  think 
of  the  con>r:ion  cause,  of  the  public  good,  of  the 
prosperity  of  the  country,  of  the  honor  of  their 
regiment.  But  in  most  departments  of  life  men 
are  prone  to  consider  merely  or  chiefly.  How  can 
I  get  the  utmost  of  good  for  myself?  Often 
and  often  no  other  thought  whatever  is  at  the 
root  of  an  investment,  a  transaction,  an  enter- 
prise. The  future  is  sketched  in  the  mind,  and  / 
am  the  center,  and  all  else  is  arranged  so  as  most 


THE   RICH   FOOL.  28/ 

effectually  to  contribute  to  my  joy.  They  are 
the  few  whose  first  thought  it  is,  Is  there  any 
one  I  can  benefit?  and  who  so  frequently  think 
how  they  can  promote  the  welfare  and  happi- 
ness of  others,  that  at  last  this  becomes  a  habit 
with  them. 

When  we  consider  the  sleek  and  complacent 
selfishness  of  the  man  that  could  quietly  propose 
to  spend  many  years  of  comfort  without  a  thought 
of  others,  we  are  almost  glad  to  hear  of  his  sudden 
disappointment.  Doubtless  the  man  might  have 
died  as  suddenly  if  he  had  been  better  prepared. 
Had  he  invited  all  the  poor  of  the  district,  to  make 
a  distribution  to  them  of  his  surplus,  he  might  all 
the  same  have  died  without  seeing  his  benevo- 
lence enjoyed.  But  while  there  are  few  things 
more  delightful  to  contemplate  than  the  sudden 
painless  departure  of  the  man  who  has  walked 
with  God,  there  are  few  things  so  shocking  as  the 
sudden  death  of  the  sinner,  who  dies  in  passion 
with  an  oath  on  his  lips,  or  never  wakens  from  the 
insensibility  of  drunkenness.  And  what  this  Par- 
able draws  attention  to  is  the  vanity,  the  in- 
security of  worldly  and  selfish  expectations.  The 
man  had  one  view  of  the  future :  God  another. 
The  man  was  saying,  **  Thou  hast  much  goods  laid 
up  for  many  years  :  "  God  was  saying,  ''  Not  an- 
other night  shall  you  possess  a  single  bushel." 
What  a  satire  is  here  upon  man  !  Truly  every 
man  walketh  in  a  vain  show  ;  he  heapeth  up  riches 


288  THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

and  knoweth  not  who  shall  gather  them.  He 
builds  his  house  and  purposes  to  live  and  see  good 
days,  but  a  voice  falls  from  heaven,  Thou  mis- 
reckoning  man,  the  house  may  be  built,  but  there 
will  be  no  man  to  inhabit  it. 

In  his  own  thoughts  the  man  was  living  through 
long  years  of  ease  and  plenty,  but  the  cold  reality 
touched  his  warm  expectations,  and  they  withered 
death-stricken.  The  wind  passeth  over  him  and 
he  is  gone,  and  the  place  he  counted  his  knows 
him  no  more.  He  was  reckoning  that  no  life 
could  be  worthy  of  comparison  with  his  ;  that  his 
shrewd  plans  had  been  fully  accomplished,  his  ut- 
most hopes  exceeded,  he  was  in  the  full  triumph 
of  self-gratulation,  counting  himself  the  most 
successful  of  men,  the  man  to  be  envied  ;  but  this 
is  God's  judgment :  "  Thou  fool."  But  might  he 
not  set  even  God's  judgment  of  his  conduct  at 
defiance?  Was  he  not  surrounded  by  tokens  of 
his  success,  by  proofs  of  his  wisdom  ?  Alas  !  in 
that  very  article  and  particular  in  which  he  had 
judged  himself  most  wise,  he  was  exhibited  as 
conspicuous  in  folly.  He  had  spent  all  his  poor 
wisdom  in  providing  for  this  soul  of  his  an  easy, 
merry,  plentiful  life,  and  he  finds  that  so  far  from 
providing  an  abundant  life  for  himself,  he  is  un- 
able to  secure  life  of  any  kind,  and  would  gladly 
exchange  his  position  for  the  life  of  the  meanest 
of  his  slaves.  Stripped,  naked,  a  bare,  desolate 
soul,  he  passes  from  our  sight,  lost  in  the  darkness 


THE   RICH   FOOL.  289 

of  eternal  remorse,  his  own  voice  still  dolefully 
echoing  the  condemning  voice  of  God,  his  own 
soul  turning  on  itself  with  the  everlasting  reproach 
''  Thou  fool !  thou  fool !  " 

"  This  night  thy  soul  shall  be  required  of  thee  : 
then  whose  shall  these  things  be,  that  thou  hast 
provided?"  The  answer  comes  from  many  a 
dissipated  fortune,  from  many  an  auction  room, 
in  which  are  exposed  the  accumulations  of  a  life- 
time. There  is  one  of  the  places  a  man  proud  of 
his  possessions  may  moralize.  The  most  precious 
and  frequently  handled  gems  of  the  departed 
owner  are  handed  over  to  men  who  never  saw  him, 
or  who  made  a  jest  of  his  avarice,  or  to  men  who 
rivaled  him,  and  are  now  proud  of  living  a  year 
or  two  longer  and  getting  as  their  own  what  they 
had  long  grudged  to  him.  The  books  he  read  are 
now  penciled  by  others  ;  his  plate  his  defaced  and 
marked  with  other  names  ;  the  very  bed  he  lay  on 
he  needs  no  more ;  the  clothes  he  wore  he  shall 
never  again  use ;  his  mirrors,  it  is  well  they  can- 
not now  reflect  him. 

"  So  is  he  that  layeth  up  treasure  for  himself, 
and  is  not  rich  towards  God."  Soy  that  is  equally 
senseless,  and  in  an  equally  precarious  position. 
But  how  many  does  this  judgment  hit?  Yet  not 
all ;  for  some,  on  finding  unexpected  means  com- 
ing into  their  hands,  would  have  said  within  them- 
selves. This  is  delightful,  this  will  enable  me  to 
provide  for  this  needy  relative,  this  will  at  last  put 
19 


290  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

me  ilia  position  to  make  up  for  loss  I  unwittingly 
occasioned.  This  will  precisely  fit  the  wants  of 
this  or  that  benevolent  institution  that  I  know 
makes  admirable  use  of  its  funds.  God  identifies 
Himself  with  all  that  is  needy  on  earth,  and 
spending  treasure  for  the  needy  is  spending 
treasure  for  God. 

And  in  so  spending  we  become  rich  towards 
God,  are  provided  for  so  far  as  our  outlook  God- 
wards  is  concerned.  How  is  it  then  with  us? 
Suppose  all  earthly  possessions  were  suddenly  to 
drop  from  about  you,  as  they  one  day  will,  what 
would  you  have  left  ?  Would  you  then  be  rich 
or  poor  ?  Would  the  wants  you  would  then  begin 
to  feel  be  amply  provided  for  ?  Here  we  are  now 
without  our  possessions,  are  we  rich  at  this 
moment  ?  Suppose  we  never  got  back  to  our 
homes,  suppose  we  were  by  some  great  natural 
catastrophe  at  this  hour  separated  from  all  that 
we  have  provided  for  this  life,  should  we  still  be 
rich?  Is  there  something  so  belonging  to  you 
that  you  can  say,  This  is  mine  for  evermore — 
mine  through  every  change,  through  health  and 
sickness,  in  life  and  death — mine  though  I  be 
stripped  of  all  that  can  be  separated  from  my 
person,  though  I  stand  a  bare  spirit  without  con- 
nection with  material  things?  Will  you  honestly 
give  yourselves  an  answer  to  this  question  ?  What 
have  I  towards  God  ?  What  that  is  certain  to 
increase  the  nearer  I  go  to  Him?     Am  I  so  joined 


THE   RICH   FOOL.  29I 

to  Him  that  I  can  say,  "  I  am  persuaded,  that 
neither  life  nor  death,  nor  any  other  creature, 
shall  be  able  to  separate  us  from  the  love  of  God, 
which  is  in  Christ  Jesus  our  Lord  ?  " 


THE  BARREN  FIG-TREE. 

Luke  xiii.  6-9. 

This  Parable  formed  part  of  the  conversation 
which  our  Lord  held  with  those  who  reported  to 
Him  the  fate  of  some  Galileans  whom  Pilate  had 
slaughtered  in  the  temple.  The  Galileans  were 
notoriously  turbulent,  and  on  more  than  one  oc- 
casion Pilate  quelled  their  disposition  to  riot 
with  the  decisive  and  unrelenting  ferocity  that 
characterized  him.  On  this  occasion  he  seems  to 
have  stepped  beyond  his  jurisdiction,  and  to  have 
sent  soldiers  into  the  temple  to  slay  the  sacrificers 
among  the  beasts  they  were  sacrificing — an  act 
which  would  have  desecrated  a  pagan  temple, 
and  which  was  peculiarly  horrible  in  a  temple 
so  sacred  and  exclusive  as  that  of  the  Jews.  In- 
deed, one  is  tempted  to  suppose  the  atrocity  had 
been  magnified  by  rumor,  and  that  what  had  at 
first  been  related  in  strong  figures  was  at  last 
taken  literally  ;  that  Pilate  had  slaughtered  some 
Galileans  who  had  come  to  the  city  to  sacrifice, 
but  were  not  yet  inside  the  temple  ;  and  that 
some  one  returning  to  Galilee,  and  finding  him- 
self an  object  of  interest  as  a  participator  in  the 
disturbance,  and  desiring  to  make  a  terse  and 
292 


THE   BARREN   FIG-TREE.  293 

picturesque  report  of  what  had  happened,  said 
with  an  allowable  figure  of  speech  that  Pilate  had 
mingled  their  blood  with  that  of  their  sacrifices. 
This  report  a  hearer  taking  literally  might  sup- 
pose to  mean  that  Pilate  had  sent  soldiers  into 
the  temple  and  had  slain  the  worshipers  among 
the  altars  and  sacrificial  animals. 

Whatever  the  act  of  Pilate  had  been,  those 
who  now  spoke  of  it  seemed  impressed,  not  so 
much  with  any  perfidy  or  profane  ferocity  on  his 
part,  as  with  the  exceptional  guilt  which  they 
suppose  these  Galileans  must  have  incurred  to 
justify  their  consignment  to  such  a  doom.  They 
argue  that  God  would  not  have  delivered  up  any 
of  His  worshipers  to  so  shocking  a  death,  had 
they  not  been  guilty  of  some  exceptional  ini- 
quity. And  with  the  pleasure  men  find  in  speak- 
ing of  the  disasters  of  others  while  themselves 
secure,  and  of  commenting  upon  wickedness 
which  they  believe  to  exceed  their  own,  these 
persons  come  with  their  story  to  Jesus,  hoping  to 
hear  some  edifying  discourse  on  the  wickedness 
of  the  world  at  large,  and  some  suggestions  which 
may  warrant  them  in  congratulating  themselves 
with  still  more  satisfied  complacency. 

They  are,  however,  disappointed.  In  this 
slaughter  of  the  Galileans,  as  well  as  in  other  calami- 
ties to  which  public  attention  had  been  drawn, 
our  Lord  sees  no  evidence  of  exceptional  guilt, 
but  rather  samples  of  calamity  threatening  the 


294  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

whole  nation.  These  disasters  were  the  first  mut- 
terings  of  the  storm  which  was  shortly  to  break 
over  the  whole  community.  The  Jews  were  not 
to  look  at  the  Galileans,  or  at  those  of  their  own 
number  on  whom  the  tower  of  Siloam  fell,  as 
separate  from  themselves  by  any  peculiar  wicked- 
ness ;  they  were  to  consider  them  as  integral 
parts  of  the  nation,  and  to  accept  and  gather 
warning  from  the  strokes  which  thus  fell  upon 
the  people  at  large.  These  strokes,  our  Lord 
says,  were  meant  to  awaken  the  whole  nation  to 
its  precarious  condition.  They  were  meant  to 
make  the  people  at  large  consider  whether  they 
did  not  as  a  people  together  deserve  a  like  doom. 
They  are,  in  short,  the  first  efforts  of  the  hus- 
bandman to  stimulate  the  tree  to  greater  activity. 
The  branches  which  have  been  cut  off  are  cut  off 
not  for  any  special  fault  of  theirs,  but  to  quicken 
the  whole  tree.  If  the  Jewish  ear  were  opened, 
it  would  hear  in  these  thickening  accidents  and 
disasters,  not  any  private  calamity,  but  the  voice 
of  the  husbandman  wondering  how  the  whole 
tree  can  be  made  to  produce  any  proper  and  valu- 
able fruit.  Hence  the  Parable  of  the  Fig-tree. 
The  direct  meaning  of  the  Parable  is  unmis- 
takable. What  had  happened  to  these  Galileans 
would  shortly  happen  to  the  whole  nation  unless 
they  so  repented  as  to  accomplish  God's  purpose 
with  them.  This  Jewish  people  was  like  a  fig-tree 
enjoying  every  advantage,  but  bearing  no  fruit. 


THE   BARREN    FIG-TREE.  295 

As  three  years  make  up  the  full  lime  which  it  is 
reasonable  to  spend  upon  the  cultivation  of  an 
apparently  barren  tree,  so  there  is  a  fulness  of 
time  in  the  history  of  a  nation  during  which  it 
receives  its  opportunities.  This  time  had  now 
expired  with  the  Jews,  and  the  forty  years  that 
were  yet  given  them,  in  answer  to  the  "  Father, 
forgive  them,"  which  our  Lord  breathed  from 
the  cross,  were  the  tree's  ultimate  year  of  pro- 
bation which  was  to  decide  its  fate.  To  every 
nation  God  has  given  a  special  task,  and  special 
gifts  and  opportunities  to  accomplish  it.  As  the 
body  requires  many  members,  and  all  the  mem- 
bers have  not  the  same  ofifice, — as  the  orchard  has 
many  kinds  of  trees,  and  one  kind  cannot  bear 
all  fruits, — so  each  nation  has  had  some  special 
impulse  to  give  to  the  progress  of  the  race.  A  mod- 
ern nation,  however  civilized,  cannot  do  the  work 
which  was  committed  to  an  ancient  tribe,  of 
choosing  out  the  habitable  parts  of  the  earth  and 
sowing  the  seed  which  all  subsequent  times  have 
been  reaping.  The  Greeks  and  Romans,  the 
Egyptians  and  Persians,  Cyrus,  whom  God  owned 
as  His  servant,  and  many  besides,  had  their 
peculiar  functions  in  the  education  of  the  race 
and  in  preparing  the  world  for  Christ.  But  the 
Jews  were  called  to  a  distinctive  place.  A  dif- 
ferent species  of  fruit  was  expected  from  them. 
Their  special  function  was  to  acknowledge  Christ 
when  He  came,  and  to  form  His  kingdom.     This 


296  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

fruit  they  had  not  borne.  As  a  nation  they  had 
failed,  and  seemed  likely  yet  to  fail,  whatever  in- 
dividuals among  them  had  done  and  were  yet  to 
do.  Having  failed  and  continuing  to  fail,  they 
would  become  mere  cumberers  of  the  ground. 
There  would  be  no  reason  why  their  national 
existence  should  be  continued. 

The  Parable,  however,  has  important  personal 
bearings.  Every  man's  conscience  gives  the 
Parable  a  personal  application.  You  would  hard- 
ly find  any  one  who  would  deny  that  God  expects 
some  fruit  of  his  life.  If  you  asked  yourself  or 
any  one  else,  Is  it  a  matter  of  absolute  indiffer- 
ence to  God  what  results  from  your  life  ?  you 
would  be  answered,  That  it  is  impossible  to  con- 
ceive of  God  at  all  without  supposing  that  He 
desires  every  human  life  to  serve  some  good  pur- 
pose. This,  at  all  events,  is  Christ's  view.  This 
it  is  which  made  His  life  what  it  was,  influential 
to  all  time,  and  the  unfailing  source  of  the  high- 
est energy  to  all  other  lives.  That  is  to  say,  He 
has  given  us  the  most  cogent  of  all  demonstra- 
tions that  in  proportion  as  we  accept  His  view  of 
the  connection  of  our  life  with  God,  shall  we  re- 
semble Him  in  the  utility  and  permanent  result 
of  all  we  do.  It  has  become  obvious  that  in  the 
world  of  nature  nothing  is  isolated  and  independ- 
ent, but  that  everything  is  connected  more  or 
less  remotely  with  everything  else  ;  that  all  nature 
is  one  whole,  governed  by  one  idea  and  fulfilling 


THE   BARREN   FIG-TREE.  297 

one  purpose.  Human  lives  are  under  the  same 
law.  No  life  is  outside  of  the  plan  which  com- 
prehends the  whole;  every  life  contributes  some- 
thing to  the  fulfilment  of  the  great  purpose  all  are 
to  serve.  Our  Lord  tells  us  that  this  purpose  is 
in  the  mind  of  God,  and  that  He  judges  us  by  our 
fulfilment  or  non-fulfilment  of  His  will.  And  that 
we  should  be  reluctant  to  bring  forth  fruit  to  God, 
or  hesitate  to  live  for  Him,  has  its  root  in  the  fool- 
ish and  objectionable  idea  that  God  and  we  have 
opposing  interests,  so  that  to  help  out  God's  idea 
of  the  world  and  to  work  with  Him  and  towards 
His  end  is  really  not  our  best.  Nothing  seems  to 
teach  us  that  God  is  all  on  our  side.  It  has  taken 
men  six  thousand  years  to  find  out  some  part  of  the 
provision  for  our  good  which  He  has  laid  up  in 
the  material  world,  and  it  seems  it  will  take  us 
even  longer  to  discover  the  provision  He  has  made 
for  feeling  and  thought  and  for  spiritual  strength 
and  joy. 

But  not  only  has  each  human  life  a  purpose  ; 
most  men  have  the  more  or  less  distinct  perception 
that  they  are  as  fig-trees  among  vines  ;  that  they 
have  peculiar  opportunities  not  given  to  other 
men,  and  that  in  one  way  or  other  they  enjoy 
special  advantages.  The  fig-tree  of  the  Parable 
was  not  lost  among  a  forest  of  precisely  similar, 
equally  cared-for  and  equally  uncared-for  trees; 
it  was  one,  standing  by  itself  among  plants  of  dif- 
ferent kind,  and  receiving  different  attention.   You 


298  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

have  little  feeling  of  responsibility  to  God  so  long 
as  you  think  you  have  dropped  into  your  place 
casually  as  the  seed  blown  by  the  wind,  or  that 
what  you  receive  you  receive  not  because  it  is 
suitable  for  you,  and  therefore  given  by  God,  but 
only  because  you  and  all  around  you  are  included  in 
some  general  order  of  things,  and. dealt  with  in  the 
mass  and  regardless  of  individual  characteristics. 
But  if  you  deal  with  God  about  your  life  at  all, 
you  find  it  to  be  necessarily  implied  that  you  as- 
cribe to  Him  a  constant  watchfulness  over  it  and  a 
power  to  introduce  what  is  needful  for  you,  and 
to  give  you  all  that  is  needed  for  fruit-bearing, 
for  accomplishing  His  purpose. 

The  position,  then,  that  you  occupy  and  the 
advantages  you  enjoy  are  the  indication  that  God 
means  your  life  to  serve  a  good  purpose.  If  you 
look  at  life  with  the  secret  or  expressed  conviction 
that  it  is  a  pitiful  and  contemptible  thing  from 
which  nothing  good  can  result,  it  will  in  your  case 
become  a  contemptible  and  barren  affair.  But 
begin  with  the  belief  that  God's  purposes  are 
worth  accomplishing,  and  that  they  can  be  and  are 
being  accomplished  by  men,  and  that  you  may  ac- 
complish them  and  this  will  give  to  your  life  a 
steady  and  hopeful  energy,  and  put  your  life  on 
the  only  track  that  is  really  eternal.  A  man  may 
indeed  find  the  thought  rising  in  him,  that  as 
some  nations  have  served  God's  purpose  by  war, 
by  godless  culture,  by  living  out  their  own  nature 


THE   BARREN   FIG-TREE.  299 

irrespective  of  God,  so  may  I  accomplish  His  pur- 
pose although  I  pursue  the  bent  of  my  own  nature 
and  build  up  my  life  solely  in  accordance  with 
my  own  views  and  plans.  But  why  has  God  given 
you  light  about  His  will  if  He  meant  you  to 
make  no  use  of  it  ?  You  can  only  judge  of  the  kind 
of  fruit  God  wishes  you  to  bear  by  considering 
the  position  He  has  set  you  in  ;  and  you  can  bear 
that  fruit  only  by  using  all  the  advantages  He  has 
given  you.  The  gardener  leaves  some  plants  out 
and  unsheltered,  but  others  he  brings  into  the 
walled  garden,  and  some  he  puts  under  glass  ;  and 
if  the  vine  were  treated  like  a  gooseberry  bush, 
it  would  bear  neither  grapes  nor  yet  gooseberries. 
So  if  we  exclude  or  neglect  influences  which  God 
has  seen  fit  to  furnish  us  with,  we  must  be  fail- 
ing to  produce  the  fruit  He  wishes.  If  He  has 
brought  you  light  in  Christ  which  you  are  not 
making  any  use  of,  if  you  decline  to  live  in  that 
communion  with  the  heart  of  all  spiritual  life 
which  exists  in  the  Father  of  spirits,  then  it  must 
be  that  you  are  failing  to  produce  the  fruit  for 
the  sake  of  producing  which  He  has  given  you 
these  advantages.  Are  you  sure  there  is  nothing 
to  be  gained  by  fellowship  with  Christ  ?  are  you 
sure  that  you  can  be  as  complete  a  man  without 
this  person  who  felt  it  in  Him  to  draw  all  men  to 
Him  ?  are  you  sure  that  you  can  serve  every  good 
and  worthy  purpose  just  as  well  without  any  di- 
rect help  from  Him  as  with  it  ?     Because,  if  you 


300  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

are  not  sure,  then  it  is  obvious  that,  for  all  you 
know,  you  are  shutting  out  an  influence  which 
would  simply  make  all  the  difference  between 
bearing  fruit  and  not  doing  so  ;  between  your 
life  serving  the  best  purpose  possible  and  serving 
a  purpose  disappointing  and  disastrous  ;  between 
fruit  borne  on  the  south  side  of  a  high  brick  wall 
and  fruit  borne  or  attempted  on  the  north  side. 

And  what  can  be  more  utterly  humiliating  than 
to  have  our  life  examined  by  absolute  insight  and 
the  most  loving  justice,  and  to  be  pronounced  bar- 
ren ?  To  fail  in  any  one  department  of  life  is  hu- 
miliating enough,  but  to  fail  over  the  whole,  and  to 
find  that  the  whole  thing  is  gone  for  nothing,  must 
be  impossible  to  bear.  To  have  consciously  failed 
in  helpfulness  to  a  friend,  or  to  have  failed  as 
a  son  or  as  a  parent,  to  have  quite  disappointed 
one  who  was  trusting  to  us,  makes  a  mark  on  our 
conscience  we  do  not  easily  cover  over  ;  to  be  en- 
gaged with  others  in  a  work  all  of  which  is  re- 
tarded or  spoiled  by  a  piece  of  stupidity  or  neglect 
on  our  part,  affects  us  with  a  very  sensible  shame. 
But  think  of  failing  in  what  our  whole  life  was 
given  us  to  accomplish !  How  vain  to  defend 
ourselves  by  affirming  that  if  we  have  not  pleased 
God  and  borne  the  fruit  He  desired,  we  have  yet 
not  lived  in  vain  !  A  young  surgeon  is  appointed 
to  an  hospital,  but  the  mortality  greatly  in- 
creases ;  inquiry  is  made,  and  it  is  found  that 
he  has  neglected  his  duties.     He  is  charged  with 


THE   BARREN   FIG-TREE.  3OI 

neglect,  and  acknowledges  it.  ''  But,*'  he  says, 
"  come  with  me,  and  I  will  show  you  I  have  not 
been  idle."  He  takes  the  authorities  to  his  room, 
and  shows  them  a  freshly  finished  painting  or  a 
half-written  book  which  he  expects  will  make  his 
fortune.  No  one  questions  whether  such  a  per- 
son will  be  retained  or  dismissed. 

For  the  charge  of  bringing  forth  no  fruit  is  not 
the  only  one  which  the  owner  of  the  fig-tree  brings 
against  it.  It  also  cumbered  the  ground,  took 
up  a  place  in  his  vineyard  which  might  be  more 
profitably  used.  It  not  only  bore  no  fruit  itself, 
but  "  sucked  the  soil's  fertility  "  from  wholesome 
and  productive  plants.  It  used  up  room  and 
nourishment  which  another  tree  might  have  used 
for  fruit-bearing.  This  tree  had  given  promise, 
and  because  of  its  promising  appearance  had 
been  set  where  it  was — but  it  failed.  And  it  re- 
minds us  of  the  guilt  we  incur  when  we  engage 
to  perform  duties  which  nevertheless  we  neglect. 
Had  we  not  professed  a  willingness  to  perform 
them,  others  would  have  been  found  to  do  them. 
Had  we  not  thrust  ourselves  forward,  or  would 
we  only  stand  aside  and  yield  the  duties  to  others, 
they  would  be  performed  ;  but  by  taking  engage- 
ments upon  us  and  not  fulfilling  them,  we  both 
omit  our  own  part  and  prevent  others  from  per- 
forming it :  like  a  crowd  idly  gazing  from  the 
shore  at  a  man  drowning,  and  hindering  the  one 
eager  to  rescue  who  cannot  make  his  way  to  the 


302  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

water's  edge  through  the  idle  mass.  Have  you 
never  seen  some  one  spoiling  a  piece  of  work 
which  you  were  sure  you  could  do  well,  but  with 
which  you  cannot  interfere  because  the  other  is 
the  party  engaged  to  do  it  ?  Far  better  that  he 
were  out  of  the  way  ;  but  until  he  is  discharged 
by  a  competent  authority,  he  must  be  allowed, 
not  only  to  spoil  the  work  himself,  but  to  prevent 
any  one  else  from  doing  it  well.  The  reason  why 
no  one  interferes  with  your  work  is  not  always 
that  it  is  perfectly  satisfactory.  You  may  blun- 
der and  weary,  you  may  do  your  work  in  a  per- 
functory and  slovenly  way,  but  while  you  occupy 
the  place,  the  better  workman  cannot  interfere  to 
mend  matters. 

It  is  a  saddening  but  also  a  stimulating  reflec- 
tion, that  many  duties  might  be  better  performed 
were  we  out  of  the  way.  To  many  parents  it 
must  occur  that  their  children  would  have  been 
better  provided  for  in  an  orphan  hospital,  some- 
times even  better  clothed  and  fed,  better  in- 
structed in  religion,  with  a  more  worthy  example 
to  incite  them  to  well-doing,  and  receiving  a  bet- 
ter start  in  life  than  they  can  do  while  their  nat- 
ural guardians  are  alive  and  engaged  to  perform 
duties  which  are  almost  wholly  neglected.  And 
in  many  directions  in  which  our  relations  in  life 
branch  out,  it  may  well  shame  us  to  look  upon 
the  dead  barren  twigs  into  which  we  send  no 
sap,  and  which  might  be  all  beautified  and  bend- 


THE   BARREN   FIG-TREE.  303 

ing  under  mellow  fruit  were  some  other  enjoying 
the  place  that  we  occupy  with  our  lifeless  bulk. 
If  others  had  had  our  advantages,  is  it  not  prob-  f 
able  that  more  beneficial  results  would  have  ap- 
peared ?  If  others  had  enjoyed  the  same  parent- 1 
age,  the  same  thoughtful  prayerful  love  watching 
over  their  early  years,  the  same  clear  light  regard- 
ing duty,  the  same  encouragement  to  well-doing, — 
if  others  had  received  as  fully  as  we  of  what  is 
thoroughly  beneficial  in  life,  or  what  goes  to  form 
character  and  to  make  the  conduct  wholesome 
and  helpful, — is  it  not  likely  that  fruit  of  a  rarer 
quality  and  of  greater  abundance  would  have 
appeared  ? 

It  is  impossible  that  such  waste  of  ground 
should  be  suffered  forever  in  such  a  vineyard  as 
this  of  the  Parable.  If  we  on  whom  certain  duties 
are  depending  are  the  very  persons  who  prevent 
these  duties  from  being  done,  this  is  not  a  state 
of  things  which  a  wise  God  will  allow.  Indolence, 
distrust,  anything  which  hinders  us  from  working 
harmoniously  with  God,  must  be  removed  and 
is  being  removed  from  His  dominion.  Such  ' 
things  can  only  be  suffered  for  a  time,  and  do  not 
belong  to  the  eternal  condition  of  things.  There- 
fore God  in  His  mercy  warns  us  that  all  such  ob- 
structive dispositions  must  be  abolished.  Here 
Christ  in  His  office  of  Saviour  and  Intercessor  is 
represented  as  interposing  between  the  owner  and 
the  barren  tree  :  "  Lord,"  He  says,   ^'  let  it  alone 


304  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

this  year  also.  Let  me  give  it  one  chance  more, 
let  me  do  my  utmost  for  it."  This  request  is 
acceded  to,  but  on  the  distinct  understanding  that 
this  is  a  last  chance.  It  is  agreed  on  both  sides 
that  if  fruit  be  not  now  borne,  the  end  has  come. 
There  will  be  no  more  pleading.  The  spade  will 
be  thrown  aside  and  the  axe  lifted.  There  is  no 
hurry  in  the  matter,  but  a  distinct  agreement — 
one  thing  or  other  must  be  done — either  the  fruit 
borne  or  the  tree  cut  down.  As  it  is  said,  "  God 
does  not  pay  on  Saturdays,  but  at  last  He  pays." 
His  judgments  are  not  weekly,  but  they  are 
infallibly  certain.  Every  delay  He  makes,  He 
makes  with  a  distinct  understanding  of  what  He 
means  by  it,  of  how  long  it  is  to  be  and  of  what 
will  take  place  at  the  expiry  of  the  term.  There 
comes  a  time  when  even  the  tears  of  Christ  will 
not  save  us  ;  when  even  He  can  do  no  more  than 
weep. 

The  Jews  accordingly  received  their  year  of 
grace.  Judgment  was  delayed  for  forty  years ; 
for  a  generation.  Time  was  given  for  passions  to 
die  down,  for  prejudice  to  pass  away,  for  reflec- 
tion to  be  made  on  all  that  Christ  had  been  and 
done.  The  tree  was  digged  about  and  well  cared 
for.  Means  never  before  used  were  now  used. 
Preachers  as  zealous  as  the  old  prophets  and  with 
more  telling  words  to  utter  held  clearly  before 
them  the  king  they  had  disowned.  The  trees 
planted  near  them  all  began  to  yield  fruit.     In 


THE  BARREN   FIG-TREE.  305 

fact,  as  every  one  sees,  it  was  useless  trying  to 
do  more  to  bring  them  to  acknowledge  Christ ; 
nothing  more  could  be  done.  And  so  the  heavy 
hand  of  Rome  which  so  long  had  been  held  back 
was  at  last  allowed  to  fall,  and  the  nation  went 
to  pieces  under  the  blow. 

But  when  the  old  tree  is  torn  up  by  the  storm, 
what  chiefly  astonishes  us  is  to  see  that  the  mass 
below  the  ground  has  been  almost  as  widespread 
as  the  branches  above  :  that  each  branch  and  leafy 
twig  that  has  waved  in  the  air  is  represented  by 
an  unseen  root  or  sucker  below  which  has  fed  and 
sustained  it  ;  and  so  if  you  look  below  the  surface 
through  this  period  of  grace,  your  eye  lights  upon 
the  sustaining  love  of  God,  your  ear  discerns 
the  regretful,  dirge-like  mourning  that  breathed 
through  the  words,  "  O  Jerusalem,  Jerusalem," 
the  bitter  disappointment  and  yearning  that  can 
only  with  deepest  sorrow  and  pain  give  up  hop- 
ing and  that  still  repeats,  "  Oh  that  My  people  had 
hearkened  unto  Me,  and  Israel  had  walked  in  My 
ways  !  I  would  soon  have  subdued  their  enemies, 
and  turned  My  hand  against  their  adversaries." 

This  Parable,  then,  bears  in  it  a  strong  encour- 
agement that  may  well  pervade  and  strengthen 
our  whole  life.  For  this  vinedresser  had  not 
interceded  for  the  tree  unless  he  had  thought  it 
possible  that  fruit  might  yet  be  borne  ;  and  you 
may  be  sure  the  pains  he  spent  on  that  tree  would 
exceed  all  that  he  spent  on  the  rest.  You  can 
20 


306  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

fancy  him  leaning  on  his  spade  and  carefully 
studying  it,  thinking  of  it  as  he  went  home  at 
sundown,  talking  it  over  with  neighboring  vine- 
dressers, and  coming  out  early  to  try  some  fresh 
method,  resolved  that  it  should  lose  no  chance  of 
mending.  And  were  our  ear  keen  enough  to  hear 
the  deliberations  and  judgments  pronounced  now 
in  the  spiritual  world,  might  not  some  of  us  be- 
come aware  that  we  ourselves  were  under  discus- 
sion and  that  the  time  of  our  final  probation  had 
come  ;  that  methods  were  now  being  tried  with 
us  which,  if  they  fail,  cannot  be  renewed?  If 
hitherto  you  have  done  little  for  God,  and  if 
lately  the  thought  of  your  opportunities  of  doing 
good  service  has  been  borne  in  upon  you,  if  your 
advantages  have  been  strikingly  increased,  your 
position  improved,  and  hindrances  taken  out  of 
the  way,  then  ought  you  not  in  reason  to  con- 
strue this  into  a  renewed  invitation  on  God's  part 
that  you  should  make  up  your  mind  at  length  to 
live  for  Him?  Suppose  you  could  overhear  the 
remarks  passed  upon  your  condition  by  these  un- 
seen overseers,  suppose  you  could  overhear  what 
is  thought  of  your  past  and  what  is  resolved  re- 
garding your  future,  have  you  no  reason  to  be- 
lieve that  you  would  hear  remarks  very  similar 
to  those  which  were  called  forth  by  this  tree  from 
the  persons  who  stood  and  considered  it  ?  If  it 
be  so,  if  you  are  now  to  be  put  on  a  final  trial, 
then  He  who  seeks  and  longs  that  you  win  is  at 


THE   BARREN    FIG-TREE.  307 

your  side  to  give  you  ever-y  advantage,  such  ar- 
rangement of  your  worldly  circumstances  as  is 
most  likely  to  tell  upon  you  for  good,  such  influ- 
ences brought  to  bear  upon  you  as  you  must  con- 
sciously resist  if  you  are  not  to  bring  forth  fruit, 
such  promptings  of  conscience  and  present  light 
about  duty  as  you  must  shut  your  eyes  to  if  you 
are  not  to  see  and  obey.  If  this  consideration 
and  treatment  of  you  is  going  on,  and  if  indeed 
the  main  reason  of  your  being  in  life  at  all  is  that 
it  may  go  on,  then  are  you  not  to  think  what 
may  come  of  it,  are  you  not  to  bestir  yourself  to 
some  serious  and  thorough  response  to  God's 
dealing?  If  you  so  bestir  yourself,  then  you  are 
certain  of  success.  Christ  does  tend  you.  Much 
that  He  does  may  be  offensive  to  you,  much 
unintelligible ;  but  believe  in  Him,  frankly  and 
heartily  co-operate  with  Him  ;  welcome  His  efforts 
in  your  behalf ;  consider  how  much  fruit  His  own 
life  bore,  how,  through  neglect  and  contradiction 
of  sinners,  through  unsettlementand  poverty  and 
at  last  suffering,  He  still  served  God's  purpose. 
Consider  how  utterly  His  life  gives  the  lie  to  all 
within  you  that  would  either  say  that  life  is  easy, 
or  that  it  is  fruitless  and  empty  and  contemptible. 
Consider  Him  and  His  promise  that  His  Spirit, 
which  made  Him  what  He  was,  shall  pass  into 
you,  and  take  courage  to  live  with  Him  and  like 
Him.  Believe  that  He  means  you  well,  believe 
that  He  understands  human  life  and  means  to 


308  THE    PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

make  yours  worthy,  and  that   if  you  co-operate 
with  Him,  nothing  can  defeat  you. 

There  is  encouragement  also  for  those  who 
have  long  been  striving  to  serve  God.  Do  not 
despond  about  your  own  bad  state  and  its  many 
unfavorable  symptoms.  Do  not  learn  to  treat 
life  carelessly,  as  if  its  duties  and  trials  had  no 
reference  beyond  the  present  time  ;  do  not  treat 
this  world  as  if  Christ  had  never  been  in  it  and 
had  not  shown  you  how  everlasting  results  may 
flow  from  a  brief  time  spent  among  men  and  their 
sins  and  passions.  Do  not  believe  that  you  are 
left  on  earth  to  grope  and  stumble  blind  and  for- 
lorn to  an  uncertain  termination,  but  abide  in 
Christ  and  keep  your  mind  occupied  with  His 
ways  and  seek  His  presence,  until  you  feel  sure 
that  every  day  comes  to  you  with  opportunities 
of  living  as  He  did.  It  may  seem  very  poor  fruit 
such  soil  as  you  are  planted  in  can  produce,  but 
leave  that  to  Him ;  He  knows  the  kind  of  fruit 
He  seeks  from  your  life ;  and,  if  it  satisfies  Him, 
it  may  satisfy  you.  Do  not  fancy  that  all  is  over 
with  you,  and  that  fruit  is  what  once  might  have 
been,  but  now  cannot  be.  Even  out  of  the 
withered  hopes  that  lie  damp  upon  your  heart 
and  the  comforts  that  have  gradually  fallen  from 
about  you  and  now  lie  dead  and  saddening  all 
your  life,  your  Lord  can  bring  happiness  and  prof- 
it to  you,  can  use  these  disappointments  and 
griefs  as  nature  uses  the  dead  leaves  of  the  autumn 


THE   BARREN   FIG-TREE.  309 

to  nourish  and  feed  the  spring  and  the  coming 
harvest.  Certainly  this  remains  to  us  all  to  say  : 
I  may  bring  forth  fruit  to  God,  it  is  open  to  me 
to  please  and  gratify  Him,  it  is  open  to  me  to 
make  my  life  worthy  of  the  approval  and  com- 
mendation of  Him  compared  to  whose  judgment 
the  praise  or  blame  of  men  is  as  the  bluster  of 
the  wind  that,  once  heard,  dies  out  forever. 
Life  may  in  other  respects  be  sad  and  dreary ; 
I  may  be  fixed  in  one  cramped  and  narrow  spot 
all  my  days,  enlivened  and  stimulated  by  no 
change,  the  same  familiar  employments  palling 
upon  me  more  drearily  every  day  ;  I  may  have  to 
stand  out  exposed  to  burning  heat  or  chilling 
storms,  and  may  long  for  shelter,  for  comfort,  for 
ease,  for  pleasure,  but  the  want  of  any  or  all  of 
these  ought  not  to  make  me  think  there  is  no 
object  in  my  life,  no  good  use  I  can  put  it  to,  no 
worthily  compensating  end  it  will  serve.  In  the 
assurance  of  my  Lord  I  mean  to  abide,  that  there 
still  and  always  remains  to  me  the  possibility  of 
doing  God's  will,  and  opportunity  of  satisfying 
His  purpose  with  me. 


THE  GREAT  SUPPER. 

Luke  xiv.  16-24. 

The  occasion  of  this  Parable  is  caretully  ex- 
plained by  Luke.  One  Sabbath-day,  a  leading 
Pharisee  of  the  metropolis  had  invited  a  large 
and  apparently  distinguished  company  to  dinner  ; 
possibly  the  guests  were  invited  on  the  express 
understanding  that  they  would  have  an  oppor- 
tunity of  conversing  with  Jesus  more  freely  than 
they  could  in  a  public  place ;  possibly  Jesus  was 
a  casual  guest,  asked  at  the  moment.  At  all 
events  the  innate  authority  which  shone  through 
His  bearing  and  conversation  at  once  disarmed 
His  intended  critics,  and  instead  of  a  spirited  de- 
bate they  found  themselves  forming  an  audience 
to  this  dangerous  teacher.  It  was  strictly  table- 
talk  our  Lord  here  indulged  in.  His  remarks, 
though  not  calculated  to  make  either  host  or 
guests  feel  quite  at  their  ease,  were  seasonable. 
Perhaps  His  advice  to  guests  that  they  should 
modestly  take  the  lowest  place  is  rendered  less 
needful  in  our  own  society,  in  which  any  obtru- 
sive assumption  of  precedence  would  be  consid- 
ered a  breach  of  good  manners.  And  yet  there  are 
still  extant  characters  which  by  kindred  vices 
become  the  bane  of  all  genial  and  sociable  inter- 
310 


THE   GREAT   SUPPER.  3II 

course.  There  is  the  man  who  uses  every  dinner- 
table  as  an  occasion  for  the  exhibition  of  his  own 
wit  or  knowledge  or  powers  of  conversation. 
.There  is  the  man  who  is  uncomfortable  and  un- 
happy all  the  evening  if  he  does  not  meet  with 
full  recognition  of  his  importance.  There  is  the 
woman  who  is  offended  if  you  ask  her  to  sit  at 
the  same  table  with  those  whom  she  considers 
much  her  inferiors  in  station.  There  is  the  per- 
son who  is  always  thinking  of  what  is  due  by 
others  to  himself,  never  or  rarely  of  what  is  due 
by  him  to  others. 

To  His  host,  our  Lord,  as  He  looks  round  on 
the  richly-clad  and  well-conditioned  guests,  re- 
marks that  his  hospitality  might  be  better  ex- 
pended on  those  who  had  more  need  of  it.  Our 
Lord  does  not  mean  to  discountenance  friendly 
gatherings,  which  are,  have  been,  and  always  will 
be  among  the  highest  pleasures  in  life,  but  He 
means  to  warn  against  heartless  and  hollow  civili- 
ties,— against  asking  people  to  your  house  whom 
you  really  don't  care  to  see,  but  to  whom  you 
must  return  the  doubtful  favor  they  have  shown 
you  in  giving  you  a  similar  invitation.  Our  Lord, 
that  is  to  say,  complains  of  what  society  itself  is 
continually  complaining  oi;  that  so  much  time, 
means,  thought,  and  energy  are  spent  on  the  giv- 
ing and  returning  of  formal  civilities  which  every 
one  knows  to  be  hollow.  Where  a  real  advantage 
can  be  conferred   by  your  hospitality,  where  the 


312  THE  PARABLES   OF  OUR  LORD. 

t  comfort  of  a  stranger  can  be  secured,  where  inno- 
cent and  exhilarating  pleasure  can  be  bestowed, 
where  you  can  be  the  means  of  forming  friend- 
ships useful  and  satisfactory  to  yourself  and 
others, — in  such  cases  be  given  to  hospitality ; 
but  on  every  account  emancipate  yourself  from 
the  dreary,  wasteful,  resultless  round  of  entertain- 
ments which  are  likely  to  be  as  distasteful  and 
heartless  to  those  who  receive  them  as  those  of 
which  they  are  the  recompense  were  to  your- 
self. 

But  this  kind  of  talk  began  to  touch  the  com- 
pany somewhat  too  nearly,  and  one  of  them 
makes  an  unsuccessful  attempt  to  put  an  end  to 
the  conversation  by  a  pious  remark  that  no  one 
will  be  irreverent  enough  to  criticise  or  throw 
over.  The  remark  is  skilful — sufficiently  in  the 
line  of  what  had  previously  been  said  to  warrant 
him  in  making  it,  sufficiently  off  the  line  to  change 
the  subject,  and  sufficiently  solemn  to  prevent 
any  from  violently  returning  to  the  old  subject. 
"  Blessed,"  he  says,  "  is  he  that  shall  eat  bread  in 
the  kingdom  of  God/* — a  most  undeniable  and 
edifying  assertion,  and  which,  for  the  matter  of  it, 
might  have  fallen  from  the  lips  of  our  Lord  Him- 
self, but  Pharisaic  in  this,  that,  under  the  guise  of 
piety,  it  was  intended  to  turn  the  conversation 
from  what  was  personal  and  profitable  to  a  vague 
generality  which  touched  nobody.  You  can  see 
the  sanctimonious  old  hypocrite  solemnly  shaking 


THE   GREAT   SUPPER.  313 

his  head,  and  letting  the  words  fall  unctuously 
from  his  tongue.  But  with  all  our  Lord's  benig- 
nity and  forbearance,  there  was  one  thing  He 
could  not  stand,  and  that  was  cant.  He  there- 
fore does  not  answer  the  man  as  if  he  had  been  a 
simple  soul  longing  for  communion  with  God,  but 
utters  a  Parable  to  remind  him  and  the  rest  that 
a  verbal  appreciation  of  the  blessedness  of  the 
kingdom  was  often  joined  with  an  entire  refusal 
to  enter  it.  A  person  with  less  delicate  edge  on 
his  teaching  and  less  skill  to  manage  a  conversa- 
tion, might  have  bluntly  replied  to  the  Pharisee, 
What  avails  it  to  extol  with  so  much  pious  en- 
thusiasm this  blessedness,  if  all  the  while  you 
yourself  are  rejecting  it? 

The  Parable  illustrates  the  difficulty  of  finding 
any  to  accept  what  all  acknowledge  to  be  desir- 
able :  the  lack  of  all  obtrusive  eagerness  to  take 
the  place  next  the  host,  when  the  host  happens 
to  be  Divine ;  and  the  wisdom  of  making  a  feast 
not  for  the  well-to-do,  who  will  rather  excuse 
themselves,  but  for  the  needy,  who  will  accept  the 
invitation  with  glad  surprise. 

Our  Lord  exposes  the  insincerity  of  the  Mes- 
sianic expectation  which  found  utterance  in  such 
expressions  as  that  of  the  sanctimonious  guest,  by 
exhibiting  the  actual  treatment  which  was  at  the 
same  time  being  given  to  God's  invitation  to  the 
Messianic  feast.  He  utters  a  Parable  which  shows 
how  hard  God  finds  it  to  furnish  with  guests  a 


314  THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

table  He  has  spread  with  the  utmost  bounty.  He 
shows  that  notwithstanding  first  and  second  invi- 
tations proclamations  of  God's  friendship  and 
bounty  by  the  prophets  and  by  the  Baptist,  the 
Jews  were  so  immersed  in  political  and  commer- 
cial schemes  that  they  despised  and  ignored  the 
happiness  God  had  so  carefully  prepared  for 
them.  They  professed  to  be  waiting  for  the  Mes- 
siah, but  when  He  actually  came  and  offered  them 
places  in  His  kingdom,  they  contemptuously  de- 
clined. Of  all  those  who  never  broke  bread  with- 
out exclaiming,  *'  Blessed  is  he  that  shall  eat  bread 
in  the  kingdom  of  God,"  scarcely  one  was  found 
to  take  his  place  at  the  table  God  actually  spread 
before  them.  To  furnish  His  table  with  guests 
God  had  to  pass  from  the  first  invited  and  call  in 
the  outcasts  among  the  Jews  themselves,  and 
after  ransacking  the  lanes  and  slums  of  the  city, 
had  to  go  far  afield  among  the  highways  and 
hedges  of  the  outlying  Gentiles  that  His  bounty 
might  not  be  wasted. 

The  application  of  the  Parable  to  our  Lord's 
contemporaries  is  sufficiently  obvious.  It  has 
also  obvious  applications  to  ourselves  which  may 
be  briefly  indicated.  And  as  it  is  to  the  manner 
in  which  men  deal  with  God's  invitations  that  the 
Parable  directs  attention,  rather  than  to  the  fact 
that  the  Messianic  kingdom  is  suitably  represented 
by  a  feast,  it  may  be  enough  to  say  regarding 
this  latter  point,  that  those  who   actually  enter 


THE   GREAT   SUPPER.  315 

God's  kingdom  find  all  their  cravings  satisfied,  all 
their  necessities  provided  for  ;  and  that  in  the 
present  person  and  work  of  Christ  God's  kingdom 
was  open  to  men,  and  remains  open  now  to  us. 

The  feast  being  prepared,  whom  will  God  invite 
to  partake  of  it  ?  For  admission  to  a  feast  is 
solely  by  invitation.  You  may  have  a  strong 
desire  to  be  at  some  entertainment  which  you 
know  is  to  be  given  ;  you  may  have  most  urgent 
reasons  for  wishing  to  be  there ;  your  happiness 
for  some  time  to  come  may,  so  far  as  you  can 
judge,  depend  upon  your  presence ;  and  yet  you 
can  do  nothing  but  wait  for  an  invitation.  The 
idea  of  going  unasked  is  not  once  thought  of ; 
your  presence  or  absence  depends  entirely  on  the 
will  of  another  person.  If  they  wish  your  com- 
pany, or  think  it  advisable  to  ask  you,  that  de- 
cides the  matter.  You  may  see  invitations,  which 
others  have  received,  but  you  cannot  beg,  buy,  or 
borrow  these.  Unless  one  comes  to  yourself, 
you  remain  outside,  excluded  from  the  company 
you  crave,  ignored  by  the  set  you  long  to  be  in, 
prevented  from  pursuing  your  most  Vv^armly  cher- 
ished plan.  The  same  rule  applies  to  the  feast  of 
the  Parable.  There  is  a  '*  not  transferable  "  im- 
pressed on  every  invitation  issued.  It  must  come 
to  yourself  from  God,  or  it  is  invalid  and  a  for- 
gery. If  it  were  known  that  only  three  men  in  a 
generation  were  admitted  to  intimacy  with  God, 
and  that  all  others  were  omitted,  passed  by,  and 


3l6  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

left  in  exclusion,  with  what  envy  would  these 
three  men  be  looked  upon.  Or  if  it  were  known 
that  a  small,  indefinite  number  were  chosen  in 
each  generation,  and  that  for  each  of  them  it  was 
settled  at  the  age  of  thirty  by  some  distinguish- 
ing mark  appearing  on  their  person,  we  should 
then  feel  how  completely  we  were  dependent  on 
the  will  of  God  in  this  matter.  Yet  we  are  as  de- 
pendent on  His  invitation  as  this  would  imply. 
If  God  has  prepared  nothing  for  you,  what  can 
you  do  ?  If  God  does  not  desire  that  you  be  pro- 
vided for,  if  no  place  is  set  apart  for  you  at  this 
feast,  if  He  has  not  had  you  in  view  in  making 
it,  what  can  you  do  to  mend  matters  ?  Do  not 
think  of  salvation  as  a  thing  there,  ready  for  you, 
whenever  you  choose  to  go  and  take  it.  It  de- 
pends on  God's  invitation  whether  any  good 
awaits  you.  You  have  first  to  discover  whether 
God  in  unmistakable  words  invites  you  or  not. 

Those  to  whom  it  was  first  intimated  that  the 
supper  was  ready,  had  previously  been  prepared 
for  this  announcement.  They  were  the  Jews  the 
well-instructed,  Messiah-expectant  Jews.  They 
were  persons  who  might  seem  to  be  on  friendly 
terms  with  the  host,  and  had  no  appearance  of 
destitution.  We  must  look  for  their  counter- 
part in  men  whose  need  of  salvation  does  not 
lie  on  the  surface,  whose  sins  are  not  going 
before  them  to  judgment,  and  crying  out  in  the 
hearing  of  all,  but    who  rather   seem  to  be  on 


THE    GREAT   SUPPER.  317 

terms  of  amity  with  God,  and  have  no  difficulty 
in  believing  that  they  are  invited  to  His  banquet. 
That  which  exhibits  the  true  character  of  these 
men  is  their  actual  treatment  of  d,  present  mvita- 
tion ;  not  what  they  said  about  it,  not  the  flat- 
tering terms  in  which  they  replied  to  the  host, 
but  their  conduct  when  summoned  to  come  now 
to  the  feast.  It  is  this  which  marks  off  the  real 
friend  of  God  from  him  whose  spurious  devotion 
enables  him  to  ejaculate,  as  he  thinks  of  a  future 
and  heavenly  state,  ''  Blessed  is  he  that  shall  eat 
bread  in  the  kingdom  of  God."  We  are  all  pre- 
pared to  utter  such  an  otiosed  sentiment ;  but  the 
pious  contemplation  of  heavenly  blessedness  is 
one  thing,  the  entrance  upon  such  friendships 
and  habits  as  make  us  capable  of  it  is  quite 
another  thing.  The  man  who  provoked  the 
Parable  was  not  saying  what  he  did  not  feel : 
his  feeling  was  present,  but  it  was  merely  senti- 
mental, with  no  result  in  action. 

The  Parable  gives  three  specimens  of  the 
grounds  on  which  men  refuse  the  invitation  of 
God,  and  of  the  terms  in  which  they  couch  their 
refusal.  I.  The  first  says:  ''I  have  bought  a 
piece  of  ground,  and  must  needs  go  and  see  it.  I 
pray  thee  have  me  excused."  No  doubt  he  had 
seen  the  ground  before  he  bought  it,  but  it  was  a 
much  more  interesting  sight  now.  A  piece  of 
ground,  very  poor-looking  in  itself,  becomes  at- 
tractive to  a  new  purchaser.     He  can  now  men- 


3l8  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

tally  divide  it  out  and  plan  its  crops  or  its  build- 
ings. This  man  of  the  Parable  had  not  been  of  so 
much  consequence  in  the  world  when  he  first 
accepted  the  invitation.  He  still  sees  the  desir- 
ableness of  maintaining  friendship  with  the  host ; 
but  his  invitation  does  not  now  seem  so  attractive 
as  it  did  before  he  was  a  landowner.  He  endeav- 
ors, therefore,  with  a  show  of  courtesy  to  set  up 
an  opposing  necessity.  It  is  not,  he  says,  that  he 
does  not  desire  to  accept  the  invitation,  not  at  all ; 
the  host  will  quite  misconceive  him  if  he  thinks 
he  is  not  dying  to  come  ;  but  necessity  compels 
him  to  look  after  his  property.  He  must  go  and 
take  it  over,  and  make  arrrangements  about  its 
use.     He  is  extremely  sorry,  but  so  it  is. 

The  invitation  of  God  comes  inopportunely  to 
the  man  who  is  enjoying  the  first  pleasures  of 
proprietorship.  He  feels  himself  to  be  a  solid 
part  of  this  world,  and  is  disposed  to  resent  any- 
thing which  reminds  him  that  there  are  claims 
more  pressing  than  even  those  of  his  recent  invest- 
ment. It  will  now  appear  which  possession  the 
owner  thinks  most  substantial  and  finds  most  at- 
tractive, the  bit  of  land  or  the  friendship  of  God. 
He  tries  to  persuade  himself  he  has  a  regard  for 
God  too,  and  is  compelled  for  a  little  to  defer  the 
manifestation  of  that  regard.  These  are  ominous 
necessities  indeed  which  grow  up  between  a  man 
and  God,  and  prevent  him  from  enjoying  God's 
friendship.     And  yet  do  you  not  constantly  find 


THE   GREAT   SUPPER.  319 

men  speaking  of  the  necessity  of  postponing  God's 
will  and  work  to  the  world's  business?  Do  not  . 
men  on  all  hands  betray  that  inwardly  they 
put  earthly  possessions  first,  God  second  ?  They 
profess  to  be  compelled  to  do  so,  and  to  be  sorry 
they  are  compelled  ;  and  do  not  see  that  nothing 
compels  them  but  their  own  likings  and  will. 

2.  The  second  refusal  was  worded :  ''  I  have 
bought  five  yoke  of  oxen,  and  I  go  to  prove  them. 
I  pray  thee  have  me  excused."  This  man  merely 
announces  his  intention,  assuming  that  there  can 
be  no  doubt  of  its  propriety.  However  disappoint-  1 
ed  the  host  is,  he  must  see  that  the  guest's  con-  ' 
duct  is  justifiable.  This  guest  does  not  stay  to 
explain  the  urgency ;  he  does  not  even  condescend 
to  say  that  there  is  a  necessity  ;  simply  states  that 
he  goes,  as  if  every  one  must  at  once  recognize 
the  reasonableness  of  his  conduct.  He  is  so 
absorbed  that  he  does  not  even  perceive  the  claims 
the  host  has  upon  him. 

Of  how   many  men   in  their  prime  does    this 
man    stand    as    the  representative ;  men    so    en- 
grossed in  the  business  or  pursuits  of  the  world  ! 
that  they  positively  do  not  know  that  God  has  ! 
any  claims  upon  their  time, — so  busy  in  pushing  ] 
forward    mercantile    or    scientific  or    literary  or 
political  or  military    affairs,  that  it    never  once 
occurs  to  them  that  there    are  other  objects  for 
the  sake   of   which  these  affairs  should  be  for  a 
time  suspended.     All  men  appreciate  what  con- 


320  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

tributes  to  bodily  comfort,  to  convenience  of 
moving  from  place  to  place,  to  rapidity  in  attaining 
a  competence  ;  and  those  arts  and  skilful  ap- 
plications of  science  which  are  daily  with  increas- 
ing success  contributing  to  these  ends,  come  to 
be  almost  worshiped  by  us.  There  is  a  palpable 
utility  which  imparts  a  dignity  to  the  cultivation 
of  the  arts  which  enlarge  and  beautify  life,  and 
few  escape  the  temptation  to  ascribe  to  them  even 
greater  power  than  they  possess.  When  we  do 
choose  them  as  our  pursuit  in  life,  and  discover 
the  real  wonders  they  work,  and  the  mysterious 
and  apparently  limitless  powers  that  lie  in  them, 
we  are  fascinated.  To  check  a  man  in  the 
launching  of  some  great  undertaking  which  is  to 
bring  material  advantage  to  a  city  or  country,  to 
recall  him  from  the  abstraction  of  deep  research, 
or  the  anxiety  of  fine  and  prolonged  experiment, 
to  interrupt  him  in  a  calculation  of  some  large 
financial  scheme,  to  invite  him  to  curtail  the  time 
he  gives  to  business  for  the  sake  of  entering  more 
fully  into  the  enjoyment  of  fellowship  with  God 
— this  seems  to  many  a  man  a  mere  impertinence, 
an  absurdity  bordering  on  madness.  The  objects 
for  which  men  labor  are  to  them  so  real  and  com- 
manding that  they  do  not  see  that  they  are  re- 
quired to  justify  an  entire  devotion  of  themselves 
to  tliese  objects.  A  man's  life  seems  to  be  nobly 
spent  in  subduing  the  powers  of  nature  to  the  use 
of  his  fellow-men ;  but  these   powers,  how  mys- 


THE   GREAT  SUPPER.  32I 

terlous  and  beautiful  soever  they  be,  are  but  as 
the  five  yoke  of  oxen  when  compared  with  that 
closest  intercourse  with  the  God  of  nature  to 
which  we  are  invited.  And  as  this  man  would 
have  had  more  temper  to  manage  his  young  oxen 
in  the  morning  had  he  treated  his  host  with  proper 
respect,  and  putjriendship  before  self-interest,  so 
there  is  no  one  of  us  who  will  not  make  a  better 
use  of  the  powers  of  this  world  if  he  himself  is 
inspired  with  the  thoughts  and  purposes  which 
spring  from  fellowship  with  God. 

3.  The  third  who  refuses  to  go  to  the  supper 
gives  as  his  reason  :  ''  I  have  married  a  wife,  and 
therefore  I  cannot  come."  These  several  grounds 
of  refusal  are  instanced  as  illustrating  that  any- 
thing is  considered  sufficient  ground,  and  as 
showing  also  the  various  engagements  which 
occupy  men  to  the  exclusion  of  fellowship  with 
God,  rather  than  because  each  has  some  distinct- 
ive and  significant  feature.  If  it  be  supposed 
that  this  refusal  is  distinctive,  then  it  may  be 
said  that  it  reminds  us  that  pleasure  as  well  as 
business  prevents  us  from  paying  due  regard  to 
the  appeals  of  God.  Marriage,  if  not  always 
really  so,  is  at  least  symbolically  joyful ;  and  it 
seems  to  this  man  that  the  host  takes  quite  the 
wrong  time  to  invite  him.  So,  with  a  greater 
harshness  than  the  former  decliners,  he  almost 
rudely  refuses  the  invitation.  Many  feel  as  if 
God's  invitations  came  at  the  wrong  time.  They 
21 


322  THE  PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

think  God  might  stand  aside  for  a  little.  The 
thought  of  perfect  purity,  of  a  life  of  consecration, 
of  devotedness  to  the  highest  aims,  of  renunciation 
of  all  that  is  paltry  and  self-pleasing,  comes 
inopportunely  when  they  have  just  launched  on 
a  current  that  promises  quiet  domestic  pleasure, 
and  a  happiness  that  tempts  to  forgetfulness  of 
others'  woes  and  wants. 

The  three  refusals  have  this  in  common,  that 
under  a  very  thin  disguise  there  lies  a  real  indif- 
ference to  the  feast.  They  had  better  engagements 
elsewhere — more  exciting,  profitable,  and  pleasant 
than  conversation  with  their  professed  friend. 
His  kind  intentions  are  nothing  to  them :  what- 
ever he  can  have  provided  for  their  entertainment 
is  beneath  their  notice.  They  can  apologize 
afterwards,  but  meanwhile  they  must  attend  to 
more  important  matters.  Had  they  really  liked 
his  society  and  heartily  honored  him,  they 
would  have  found  it  easy  to  go.  The  land  would 
not  have  vanished  before  next  day  ;  the  cattle 
would  have  been  proved  in  time  to  get  to  the 
feast  ;  and  even  the  wife  would  not  have  been  an 
insuperable  difficulty.  But  any  engagement  was 
enough  to  compete  with  one  they  wished  to  de- 
cline. And  the  Parable  is  spoken  that  men  may 
be  warned  and  may  see  clearly  how  amidst  con- 
siderable profession  of  friendship  with  God  there 
may  exist  a  real  distaste  for  His  society  and  His 
pleasures.     If  there  is  anything  else  to  attend  to,. 


THE  GREAT   SUPPER.  323 

it  will  receive  our  first  attention.  God  is  postponed 
to  everything  else.  This  fact,  so  obvious  in  the  [ 
life  of  many  of  us,  should  let  light  in  upon  our  true  I 
state  of  heart  ;  and  it  will  let  light  in  where  such ; 
light  is  honestly  desired.  It  is  a  severe  Parable, 
saying  very  pointedly  to  many  now  as  to  this  sanc- 
timonious person  who  provoked  it,  TJiat  is  your 
real  estimate  of  communion  with  God  :  you  talk  a 
great  deal  about  it,  you  extol  spiritual  pleasures, 
so  that,  to  hear  you,  one  would  suppose  you 
scarcely  belonged  to  earth,  but  your  life  reveals  a 
very  different  state  of  matters.  Judging  by  your 
verbal  acknowledgments  of  the  excellence  and  in- 
finite superiority  of  spiritual  to  worldly  things  one 
would  expect  to  find  you  absorbed  in  the  work  of 
Christ,  but  your  actions  give  the  lie  to  your  words, 
and  prove  them  to  be  pitiful  cant — phrases  with 
which  you  unintentionally  blind  yourself  to  your 
real  likings. 

Judging,  then,  not  from  our  words,  not  from 
the  easy  phrases  that  drop  from  our  lips  as  readily 
as  remarks  about  the  weather,  but  judging  from 
our  life  and  actions,  where  are  we  to  say  that  our 
real  pleasures  lie  ?  What  is  it  for  which  we  will 
defer  any  engagement  ?  what  is  it  we  never  forget, 
never  neglect,  never  find  tedious  and  an  unweL 
come  interruption  ?  Let  us  know  this  ;  for  it  is 
not  our  profession  that  w^e  ought  to  be  spiritual, 
nor  our  acknowledgment  that  we  ought  to  love 
God  that  avails ;   but  what  avails    is  our   being 


324  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

Spiritual  and  our  actually  loving  God  above  all. 
When  we  think  of  the  kingdom  of  God  as  a  future 
state  in  which  all  shall  be  assembled  as  to  a  family 
gathering  in  the  quiet  and  cool  of  evening,  it  is 
easy  to  express  desire  to  be  present  there.  Who 
does  not  feel  some  desire  to  see  face-to-face  the 
real  person  of  the  Lord,  and  have  leisure  to  scan 
the  features  of  this  Host  to  whom  he  is  so  inti- 
mately linked  ?  Who  does  not  desire  to  exchange 
thoughts  with  Him,  and  so  to  learn  how  personal 
and  searching  is  the  interest  the  Lord  has  taken 
in  him  ?  But  these  desires  are  apt  to  be  merely 
sentimental,  and  before  we  trust  them  they  must 
be  tested  by  the  actual  use  we  now  make  of  the 
access  to  Christ  we  already  have. 

The  doom  of  those  who  reject  God's  invitation 
is  plainly  pronounced.  They  are  passed  by,  and 
the  offer  is  made  to  others.  Paul,  seeing  this 
doom  accomplished,  said,  "  Through  their  fall — 
the  fall  of  the  Jews — salvation  is  come  to  the  Gen- 
tiles." Does  the  threat  that  none  of  those  who 
were  bidden  should  taste  of  His  supper  seem  by 
no  means  very  terrible  ?  Does  it  strike  you  as 
extravagant  and  grandiloquent  to  put  such  a  threat 
in  the  form  of  a  threat  at  all  ?  And  yet  I  suppose 
there  are  persons  you  so  esteem  that,  if  such  a 
message  came  from  them,  you  would  feel  that 
disgrace  had  fallen  upon  you,  and  that  until  you 
were  justly  reinstated  in  the  goodwill  and  friend- 
ship of  those  persons,  your  life  must  be  clouded 


THE   GREAT   SUPPER.  325 

and  full  of  bitterness.  Is  it  less  ignominious  to 
treat  God  with  disrespect,  and  less  disastrous  to 
be  excluded  from  His  favor  ?  Suppose  you  were 
sure  that  this  doom  had  been  pronounced  upon 
you,  and  that  therefore  it  was  quite  vain  for  you 
to  expect  God's  help  or  blessing  in  any  matter 
you  have  to  do  with, — suppose  you  had  the  pros- 
pect  of  entering  the  world  of  spirits  unaided  and 
uncared  for,  and  that  while  others  were  seen  to 
and  provided  for  by  God,  you  were  left  to  your- 
self,— suppose  you  had  reason  to  know  that  God, 
who  is  slowest  to  take  offense  and  never  unjust, 
is  offended  with  you,  and  henceforth  renounces 
you,  deleting  your  name  from  among  His  friends, 
— would  this  not  affect  you  with  shame  ?  would  it 
not  at  least  move  you  to  consider  what  just  cause 
of  offense  you  have  given,  and  would  it  excite  no 
anxiety  ;  or  is  it  all  one  to  you  whether  there 
opens  up  before  you  an  eternity  full  of  brightness 
and  hope,  calculated  to  call  out  every  high  senti- 
ment and  all  worthy  activity  in  you,  or  one  that 
is  full  of  gloom,  disappointment,  and  misery,  the 
lot  of  lost,  defeated,  sunken,  degraded  souls  ? 

The  invitation,  when  despised  by  those  to  whom 
it  was  originally  addressed,  was  conveyed  to  those 
who  could  least  of  all  anticipate  any  such  com- 
munication. The  class  of  outcasts  described  in 
the  Parable  is  recognizable  at  all  times.  They  are 
those  who  seem  to  be  beyond  help  and  hope — the 
maimed,  the  blind,  the  vagrant,  the  destitute,  the 


326  THE   PARABLES   OF  OUR   LORD. 

criminal  Such  descriptions  are  self-interpreting. 
Whoever  finds  himself  in  a  wretched  and  aban. 
doned  condition  is  taught  here  that  God  invites 
him  to  His  table.  He  who  cannot  discover  in  his 
condition  one  hopeful  symptom  ;  he  who  is  crushed 
and  defeated ;  he  who  has  been  maimed  in  the 
service  of  sin,  and  has  laid  himself  down  by  the 
hedge-side,  to  let  the  busy  stream  of  life  run  past 
without  noticing  him  ;  he  who  is  utterly  weary 
and  heart-broken,  and  knows  not  how  he  can  ever 
be  restored  to  virtuous  and  serviceable  living — to 
him  comes  God's  invitation  to  the  utmost  of  His 
bounty.  The  servants  were  sent  to  invite  promis- 
cuously every  one  they  found  :  bold  sinners  in 
the  streets,  secret  and  shamefaced  sinners  in  the 
lanes,  proud  sinners  in  the  highways,  and  woe- 
begone sinners  by  the  hedges  ;  wherever  they 
found  a  man,  wherever  human  life  yet  stirred  the 
mass  of  filthy  rags,  that  they  were  to  bring  to  the 
feast. 

Such  persons  were  to  be  compelled  to  come  in. 
The  servants  were  not  to  let  them  away  to  dress 
themselves  under  promise  of  coming  in  an  hour. 
They  were  to  bring  them  as  they  stood  or  as  they 
lay.  They  were  to  take  no  excuse,  but  were  to 
**  compel  "  them  to  come.  They  were  to  use  the 
strongest  persuasion  in  their  power  ;  to  allow  no 
shame,  no  sense  of  unworthiness,  no  fear  of  offend- 
ing the  host,  no  remembrance  of  wrongs  done  to 
the  host,  to  deter  them  ;  but  they  were  to   use 


THE    GREAT   SUPPER.  327 

authority,  argument,  entreaty,  everything  to  move 
them  ;  or  doing  less,  they  did  less  than  their  mas- 
ter's pleasure.  They  were  not  merely  to  walk 
along  the  highways  with  a  placard,  or  to  proclaim 
as  they  passed  by  that  any  who  chose  might  go. 
They  were  to  lay  their  hands  on  the  men,  and 
compel  them  to  listen.  They  were  to  represent 
their  master's  cordiality  and  urgency.  They  were 
not  to  leave  any  in  doubt  as  to  how  they  would 
be  received,  and  they  were  not  to  let  any  away 
with  a  mere  promise  to  come.  They  were  to  bring 
them.  And  if  the  lame  gave  as  an  excuse  that 
they  could  not  go,  or  if  the  blind  said  they  would 
have  been  glad  to  go  had  they  been  able  to  find 
their  way,  the  servant  was  to  become  eyes  to  the 
blind  and  feet  to  the  lame  ;  he  was  not  to  think 
he  had  cleared  his  conscience  by  giving  them  the 
invitation,  but  was  to  see  them  inside  the  guest- 
chamber.  Such  is  the  freedom  and  such  the 
urgency  of  the  Gospel  of  Christ. 


THE  LOST  SHEEP  AND  LOST  PIECE 
OF  MONEY. 

Luke  xv.  1-10. 

The  heathen  philosopher  Seneca  made  a  prac- 
tise of  dining  with  his  slaves,  and  when  challenged 
for  an  innovation  so  directly  in  the  teeth  of  all 
customary  proprieties  and  so  offensive  to  the 
Roman  mind,  he  defended  himself  by  saying  that 
he  dined  with  some  because  they  were  worthy  of 
his  esteem,  and  with  others  that  they  might  be- 
come so.  The  action  and  its  defense  were  alike 
admirable,  and  read  a  salutary  lesson  to  the 
aristocrats  of  Rome.  But  it  was  even  a  greater 
shock  to  the  Pharisees,  and,  if  possible,  even 
more  unaccountable,  that  Jesus  should  prefer  the 
society  of  notorious  sinners  to  their  own  irre- 
proachable manners  and  decorous  conversation. 
They  were  honestly  surprised  and  nonplussed  by 
His  treatment  of  these  abandoned  characters. 
They  could  not  understand  why  a  teacher  of  holy 
life,  instead  of  frowning  upon  the  notoriously 
profligate,  should  show  a  preference  for  their 
society.  Our  Lord's  explanation  is  ample  and 
thorough.  It  was  of  extreme  importance  that 
His  demeanor  towards  sinners  should  be  made 
perfectly  intelligible,  and  that  its  reasonableness 
328 


THE  LOST  SHEEP  AND   THE   LOST   COIN.     329 

should  be  put  beyond  a  doubt.  He  devotes, 
therefore,  the  three  Parables  recorded  in  this 
chapter  to  this  purpose. 

It  is  perhaps  worth  remarking  that  on  one 
point  He  felt  that  no  explanation  was  required. 
Even  the  Pharisees  did  not  suspect  Him  of  any 
sympathy  with  sin.  These  critics  of  His  con- 
duct had  not  failed  to  remark  that  in  His  pres- 
ence the  daring  profanity  and  audacious  license 
of  wicked  men  were  tamed.  They  could  not 
but  remark  that  into  these  doubtful  companies 
He  carried  an  influence  that  quite  overmastered 
the  habitual  manners  and  tendencies  of  the  de- 
graded creatures  among  whom  He  so  unosten- 
tatiously took  His  place.  They  never  suspected 
Him  of  any  desire  to  be  initiated  into  the  mys- 
teries of  crime,  nor  was  any  one  blind  enough  to 
fancy  He  had  some  secret  liking  for  the  talk  and 
experiences  of  the  vicious.  When  Samuel  John- 
son, late  one  night,  found  a  poor  woman  lying 
on  the  streets  of  London,  exhausted  with  want, 
disease,  and  poverty,  and  carried  her  home  on 
his  back,  and  nursed  her  with  all  tenderness  and 
sought  to  put  her  in  a  virtuous  way  of  living,  no 
one  misconstrued  his  motives.  It  was  seen  to 
be  the  Christ-like  act  of  a  simple,  great,  and 
charitable  nature.  But  while  the  contemporaries 
of  our  Lord  did  not  suppose  He  had  any  per- 
sonal relish  for  sin,  they  still  held  it  to  be  an 
unaccountable    if    not   blameworthy    feature   of 


330  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

His  conduct  that  He  received  sinne^-p.  and  ate 
with  them.  For  as  we  sometimes  find  ourselves 
laying  to  a  man's  charge  that  which  is  his  chief 
claim  to  our  regard,  and  citing  that  as  his  weak- 
ness which  in  reality  is  his  strength,  so  did  the 
Pharisees  and  scribes  bring  against  our  Lord  as 
a  damning  accusation  that  very  habit  which  is 
His  eternal  praise:  "  This  man  receiveth  sinners." 
The  most  desolate  and  broken  soul  cannot  desire 
any  better  account  of  the  Saviour's  work  than  is 
thus  given  by  those  who  were  reading  off  the 
most  obvious  facts  of  His  life. 

Those  who  so  narrowly  criticised  our  Lord's 
conduct  might  have  seen  its  reasonableness  had 
they  been  able  to  look  at  it  from  another  point 
of  view.  With  equal  surprise  they  might  have 
exclaimed :  *^  Sinners  receive  this  man  and  eat 
with  Him."  Among  them  it  was  a  new  thing 
that  the  godly  should  consort  with  sinners  ;  but 
surely  it  was  equally  novel  that  sinners  should  seek 
the  company  of  One  whose  conversation  was  in- 
stinct with  purity  and  breathed  of  heaven.  Could 
the  people  recall  many  instances  in  which  outcasts 
and  profligates  had  been  seen  longing  to  talk  with 
a  man  whose  words  were  all  of  purity  and  right- 
eousness ?  These  dissolute  and  lawless  characters 
could  themselves  have  explained  the  change. 
They  were  attracted  to  Jesus  because,  together 
with  unmistakable  sanctity,  and  even  somehow  ap- 
pearing as  the  chief  feature  of  His  sanctity,  there 


THE   LOST   SHEEP   AND   THE    LOST   COIN.    33! 

was  an  understanding  of  the  sinner's  position  and 
a  hopefulness  about  him  which  threw  a  hitherto 
unknown  spell  over  them.  Separate  from  sinners, 
as  they  had  never  before  felt  any  one  to  be,  He 
seemed  to  come  closer  to  their  heart  by  far  than 
any  other  had  come.  He  had  a  heart  open  to  all 
their  troubles.  He  saw  them  through  and  through, 
and  yet  showed  no  loathing,  no  scorn,  no  aston- 
ishment, no  perplexity,  no  weariness.  Instead  of 
meeting  them  with  upbraiding,  and  showing  them 
all  they  had  lost.  He  gave  them  immediate  en- 
trance into  His  own  pure,  deep,  efficient  love,  and 
gladdened  their  hearts  with  a  sense  of  what  they 
yet  had  in  Him. 

Therefore  men  whose  seared  conscience  felt  no 
other  touch,  who  had  a  ready  scoff  for  every  other 
form  of  holiness,  admitted  this  new  power  and 
yielded  to  it.  Old  sinners  broke  down  before  Him, 
and  with  tears  and  simplicity  as  when  they  had 
sobbed  out  their  first  fault  on  their  mother's  bosom, 
repented  of  their  weary  life  of  sin.  Men  from 
whom  the  Roman  lash  could  draw  no  word  of 
confession  ;  men  whom  society  had  branded  as 
outcasts  and  who  flung  back  on  society  a  scorn  as 
contemptuous  as  its  own  ;  men  who  had  long  since 
abandoned  all  belief  in  goodness,  and  who  de- 
lighted in  showing  their  disbelief,  were  not 
ashamed  even  in  the  public  streets,  to  own  to  Him 
their  sin  and  to  supplicate  His  mercy.  Women 
whose  vanity  and  light-heartedness  had  led  them 


332  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 


11 


to  self-loathing  and  despair,  who  forced  a  ghastly 
gaiety  from  hearts  that  lay  cold  and  heavy  as  stone 
in  their  breasts,  found  to  their  astonishment  that 
Christ  did  not  shrink  from  them,  but  spoke  to 
them  with  a  tenderness  and  a  hope  which  were 
new  sounds  to  them.  The  disheartened,  the  pol- 
luted, the  ruined,  the  degraded  came  to  Him,  be- 
cause in  Him  they  found  an  inexhaustible  com- 
passion. He  did  not  give  advice  ;  He  did  not 
I  warn ;  He  did  not  send  them  away  with  minute 
!  directions  for  godly  living  ; — there  were  plenty 
who  could  do  that — He  received  them,  opened  to 
them  His  heart,  and  gave  them  to  feel  through 
their  whole  being  that  they  were  loved  and  thought 
of  by  this  highest  and  purest  of  persons. 

The  contrast  between  this  new   attitude  of  a 
holy  person  towards  the  sinner  and  that  to  which 
men  had  commonly  been  accustomed,  has  been 
finely  described  in   the  following  words  :     "  He 
/who  thought  most  seriously  of  the  disease  held 
/  it  to  be   curable ;  while  those  who   thoug^ht   less 
'    seriously    of  it  pronounced   it  incurable.     Those 
who    loved    their   race    a   little   made  war  to  the 
knife   against    its   enemies    and    oppressors ;    He 
who  loved  it  so  much  as  to  die  for  it,  made  over- 
tures   of   peace    to    them.     The    half-just    judge 
punished  the  convicted  criminal ;  the  thoroughly 
just  Judge  offered  him  forgiveness.     Perfect  jus- 
tice here  appears  to  take  the  very  course  which 
would  be  taken  by  injustice." 


THE   LOST   SHEEP   AND    THE    LOST   COIN.    333 

It   is  Ihis,   then,   that   calls   for   explanation. 
And  it    is    explained    by     our    Lord    in    three 
Parables,  each   of  which   illustrates  the  fact  that 
a    more    active    interest    in    any     possession    is 
aroused  by  the  very  circumstance  that  it  is  lost. 
The  sheep   that  is  lost  is  not  on  that   account  1 
disregarded  by  the  shepherd  but  receives  for  the  j 
time  greater  attention  than  those  which  remain  : 
in  the  fold.     The  piece  of  money  that  has  gone 
amissing  becomes  on  that  very  account  of  greater 
immediate  importance  to  the  woman  than  all  she 
has  safe  in  her  jar  in  the  cupboard.     If  one  of  a 
family  turns  out  ill,  it  is  a  small  mitigation  that ) 
all  the  rest  turn  out  well ;  it  is  after  the  lost  the  ' 
parent's   heart   persistently  goes.     So  is  it  with 
God.     The   very   circumstance    that    men    have  ^ 
strayed  from  Him  evokes  in  Him  a  more  manifest 
and  active  solicitude  in  their  behalf.     The  attitude 
of  God  and  of  Christ  towards  sinners  is  reduced 
to  the  great  principle,  that  anything  which  is  lost 
and  may  be  regained  exercises  our  thought  more 
and  calls  out   a   more   solicitous   regard   than  a 
thing  of  equal  value  which  rests  securely  in  our 
possession. 

This  is  the  principle  which  these  Parables  are 
intended  to  illustrate :  that  with  God  as  with 
men  that  which  is  lost  occupies,  for  the  time  and 
until  restored,  more  of  His  thought  and  provokes 
clearer  and  larger  manifestations  of  His  love  than 
that  which  has  not  been  lost  or  is  already  restored. 


334  THE  PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

The  figures  used  for  the  purpose  of  illustration 
must  not  be  pushed  too  far.  They  are  not  so 
much  images  of  our  state  as  instances  of  the 
application  of  one  common  principle.  They 
are  instances  of  lost  articles;  that  is  all.  It  is 
merely  accidental  that  there  is  a  resemblance 
between  the  silly  sheep  that  heedlessly  nibbles 
the  sweet  grass  that  lies  before  it  and  so  crops 
its  way  from  spot  to  spot  of  pasture  till  it 
is  utterly  lost,  and  the  man  who  looks  only  to 
present  gratification  and  so  strays  on  with  the 
same  foolish  thoughtlessness  and  unconsciousness 
of  danger,  and  is  only  awakened  to  see  how  near 
akin  thoughtlessness  is  to  wickedness  by  finding 
himself  involved  in  inextricable  difficulties  and 
threatened  with  danger  of  the  most  alarming 
kind.  In  like  manner  it  may  be  said  that  we 
resemble  lost  coin  that  has  fallen  out  of  circula- 
tion and  is  lying  unused  and  being  gradually 
\  tarnished,  defaced,  and  buried  in  dust ;  for  we 
too  have  been  issued  with  the  image  of  our 
Maker  upon  us,  but  are  gradually  suffering  it  to 
be  defaced  and  are  dropping  aside  from  all  service- 
able living.  But  the  points  of  the  comparison  for 
the  sake  of  which  these  illustrative  instances  are  in- 
troduced are  simply  the  lostness  of  the  sheep, 
the  money,  and  ourselves  alike ;  the  consequent 
concentration  of  attention  on  what  is  lost ;  and 
the  joy  of  finding  it  again. 

I.  The   first   point,   then,    suggested  by  these 


THE  LOST   SHEEP  AND   THE   LOST  COIN.    335 

Parables  is,  that  God  suffers  loss  in  every  sinner 
that  departs  from  Him.  To  the  Pharisaic  mind 
this  was  a  new  light  on  the  character  of  God. 
The  Pharisee  himself  trusted  little  to  tenderness, 
much  to  rigid  law.  Naturally  he  thought  of  God 
also  as  standing  upon  His  rights,  enforcing  His 
will  by  compulsion,  and  with  equanimity  punish- 
ing and  driving  into  permanent  exile  those  who 
have  strayed  from  Him.  It  is  a  revelation  to 
them  to  hear  that  the  lostness  of  the  sinner  is 
God's  loss;  that  God  suffers  more  than  the  sinner 
in  the  separation.  For  God  loves  the  sinner  and 
this  love  is  wounded,  whereas  the  sinner  has  no 
love  for  God  that  can  be  wounded  by  separa- 
tion. The  silly  sheep  is  quite  satisfied  with  its 
state,  while  the  shepherd's  heart  beats  fast  with 
anxiety  about  its  possible  fate.  It  is  not  the  son 
but  the  mother  whose  hair  turns  gray  with  slow 
anguish  as  she  marks  the  increasing  frequency 
with  which  he  is  absent  from  her  fireside,  and 
how  he  is  becoming  lost  to  her.  So  it  is  God 
who  suffers,  and  not  the  heartless  sinner,  who, 
without  a  thought  of  the  wounds  he  is  inflicting, 
goes  his  own  wretched  way  and  courts  the  des- 
truction which  Christ  died  to  save  him  from.  All 
the  broken-heartedness  of  parents  who  year  by 
year  watch  the  failure  of  all  their  efforts  to  lead 
some  misguided  child  to  well-doing ;  all  the  crush- 
ing anguish  of  wives  who  see  their  husbands 
slowly  hardening  in  vice  and  sinking  out  of  reach 


336  THE  PARABLES   OF  OUR   LORD. 

of  their  love  ;  all  the  varied  misery  that  love 
,must  endure  in  this  sinful  world,  is  after  all  but 
the  reflection  of  what  Infinite  Love  suffers  in 
sympathy  with  every  sinner  who  spurns  it  and 
chooses  death.  Look  at  the  sorrow  of  God  in 
Christ,  and  say  whether  the  loss  God  suffers  in 
your  separation  from  Him  is  true  or  feigned. 

This  was  what  the  Pharisees  had  wholly  left 
out  of  account,  that  God  loves  men  and  mourns 
over  every  ill  that  befalls  them.  And  this  is  what 
we  find  it  so  hard  to  believe.  It  is  only  very 
slowly  we  come  to  believe  even  in  human  love. 
With  dififlculty  we  believe  that  there  are  persons 
to  whom  it  would  give  real  pleasure  to  make  a 
sacrifice  for  us.  How  impossible  is  it  for  a  child 
to  understand  the  love  his  parent  has  for  him. 
How  few  of  us  conceived  anything  of  the  tender- 
ness and  intensity  and  persistence  and  self-sacrifice 
of  parental  love,  till  we  ourselves  grew  up  and 
^  had  it  interpreted  to  us  by  our  own  feelings.  In 
some  of  us,  grief  for  lost  friends  or  parents  has 
j  been  embittered  by  the  thought  of  what  we  might 
I  and  would  have  done  for  them,  had  we  only 
sooner  learned  what  we  have  since  discovered  of 
their  love  for  us.  Are  none  of  us  preparing  for 
ourselves  a  similar  remorse  by  our  neglect  of  that 
Love  which  is  the  true  spring  of  all  other  affection, 
and  itself  greater  than  all  ? 

These  Parables  thus  bring  us  face  to  face  with 
the  most   significant  and   fertile    of  all  realities, 


THE   LOST   SHEEP   AND    THE   LOST    COIN.    337 

God's  love  for  us.  This  love  encompasses  you 
whether  you  will  or  no.  Love  never  asks  leave  ; 
it  cannot ;  it  enters  like  sunshine,  and  often  where 
it  seems  much  out  of  place.  You  may  destroy  all 
love  to  God  in  your  own  soul,  but  you  cannot 
destroy  His  love  for  you.  It  persists,  because 
it  is  love.  It  waits  patiently  for  requital ;  it 
humbles  itself  to  be  often  slighted,  often  mis- 
construed, often  refused.  Can  it  be  true  that  God 
loves  you  ;  that  you  yourself  are  connected  by 
this  most  fruitful  of  ties  to  the  eternal  God  ? 
Surely  there  is  no  question  that  may  more  worthily 
engage  the  attention.  It  will  not  do  for  a  man 
to  persuade  himself  he  is  honorable  and  right- 
minded,  if  he  is  making  no  account  of  this  ex- 
penditure of  love  upon  him.  This  is  no  question 
of  casuistry  that  plain  men  need  not  trouble  their 
heads  about.  It  is  no  question  of  doctrine  which 
a  man  may  believe  or  disbelieve,  and  still  remain 
sound  at  heart.  It  is  a  question  regarding  your 
conduct  towards  a  Person,  a  question  that  touches 
what  lies  deepest  in  our  life  and  character. 

2.  Secondly,  these  Parables  suggest  that  the 
ver^fact  of  our  being  lost  excites  action  of  a 
specially  tender  kind  toward  us.  God  does  not 
console  Himself  for  our  loss  by  the  fellowship  of 
those  who  have  constantly  loved  Him.  He  does 
not  call  new  creatures  into  being  and  so  fill  up 
the  blank  we  have  made  by  straying  from  Him. 
He  is  not  a  Sovereign  who  has  no  personal  knowl. 


338  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

edge  of  His  subjects,  nor  an  employer  of  labor 
who  can  always  get  afresh  hand  to  fill  an  emptied 
post  :  He  is  rather  a  shepherd  who  knows  His 
sheep  one  by  one,  a  Father  who  loves  His  children 
individually.  He  would  rather  restore  the  most 
abandoned  sinner  than  blot  him  from  his  place  to 
substitute  an  archangel.  Love  is  personal  and 
settles  upon  individuals.  It  is  not  all  the  same 
to  God  if  some  other  person  is  saved  while  you 
are  not. 

"  Thou  art  as  much  His  care  as  if  beside 
Nor  man  nor  angel  lived  in  heaven  or  earth." 

When  men  sin,  therefore,  and  fall  into  difficul- 
ties, God  cannot  remain  indifferent  or  quiescent. 
Interference  of  a  direct  and  special  kind  becomes 
necessary.  The  normal  relations  being  disturbed, 
and  man  becoming  helpless  by  the  disturbance,  it 
falls  to  God  to  restore  matters.  A  new  set  of 
ideas  and  dealings  is  brought  into  play.  So  long 
as  things  go  smoothly  and  men  by  nature  love 
God  and  seek  to  do  His  will,  there  is  no  anxiety, 
no  meeting  of  emergencies  by  unexpected  effort, 
hidden  resources,  costly  sacrifice.  But  when  sin 
brings  into  view  all  that  is  tragic,  and  when  utter 
destruction  seems  to  be  man's  appointed  destiny, 
there  is  called  into  exercise  the  deepest  tender- 
ness, the  utmost  power  of  the  Divine  nature. 
Here  where  the  profoundest  feeling  of  God  is  con- 
cerned, where  His  connection  with  His  own  chil- 


THE   LOST   SHEEP   AND   THE   LOST  COIN.    339 

dren    is    threatened,    Divinity    is   stirred    to   its 
utmost. 

This  appears,  among  other  things,  in  the  spon- 
taneity and  persistence  of  the  search  God  insti- 
tutes for  the  lost.  The  shepherd  who  misses  one 
of  his  flock  does  not  sit  down  by  the  ninety  and 
nine  in  the  pasture,  but  straightway  goes  in  search 
of  the  lost.  He  does  not  expect  that  it  will  seek 
him ;  he  goes  after  it.  He  does  not  expect  to 
meet  it  coming  home  to  him,  so  that  if  he  had 
only  waited  and  left  it  to  itself,  it  would  have 
found  its  own  way  back.  On  the  contrary,  he 
knows  the  recovery  of  the  sheep  depends  wholly 
on  himself  and  he  prepares  himself  for  trouble, 
provocation,  risk.  On  him  must  fall  the  burden 
of  finding  it,  of  devising  means  of  rescue  and  of 
bringing  it  back  to  the  fold.  Yet  men  sometimes 
seem  to  suppose  that  God  is  not  alive  to  their 
dangers,  but  needs  to  be  aroused  to  take  a  livelier 
interest  in  their  condition  and  to  help  them  in 
their  strivings  against  evil.  He  is  thought  of  as 
sitting  coldly  watching  our  passionate  and  almost 
despairing  struggles  to  break  away  from  evil  and 
make  our  way  back  to  a  pure  and  helpful  life  ;  as 
if  He  were  saying,  I  will  let  this  sinner  learn  what 
it  is  to  have  strayed  from  Me.  But  it  is  not  so  : 
God  is  as  truly  beforehand  with  the  sinner  as  the 
shepherd  with  the  sheep.  The  initiative  is  God's ; 
and  all  that  you  desire  or  do  in  the  way  of  return 
to  righteousness  is  prompted  by  Him,     He  has 


340  THE   PARABLES   OF  OUR   LORD. 

already  sufficiently  shown  that  He  is  alive  to  the 
emergency  and  that  no  trouble  is  too  great,  no 
sacrifice  too  great,  while  there  is  a  possibility  of 
saving  the  human  soul. 

God's  search  is  also  persistent.  The  woman 
of  the  Parable  sweeps  out  every  dusty  corner; 
she  shakes  out  every  article  of  clothing;  she  lifts 
boxes  that  have  not  been  lifted  for  years ;  she 
carefully  searches  drawers  where  she  knows  the 
coin  cannot  be ;  she  reads  the  face  of  every  one 
J  who  has  come  near  her  house  for  a  month;  she 
I  exhausts  every  possibility  of  finding  her  piece  of 
i  money.  Possibly  she  required  it  to  make  up  a 
sum  for  a  purchase.  Certainly  God  needs  us  for 
some  end  He  has  in  view.  This  is  not  our  whole 
history,  that  with  immense  outlay  of  Divine  re- 
sources we  are  restored  to  permanent  rectitude. 
There  must  be  much  beyond,  and  for  this  God 
prepares  us  now.  The  experiences  of  earth,  how- 
ever exalted,  do  not  exhaust  the  eventfulness  of 
our  eternal  life.  Therefore  God  seeks  us  with 
earnestness  as  if  we  were  necessary  not  only  to 
His  love  but  to  His  purposes.  He  makes  diligent 
search.  He  leaves  no  stone  unturned.  With  act- 
ive, intelligent,  unwearied  search.  He  strives  to  win 
the  sinner  to  purity  and  love.  Christ  astonished 
men  on  earth  by  the  company  into  which  He  found 
His  way,  and  by  the  affection  with  which  He  spoke 
\  to  low  and  worthless  people ;  and  so  does  He 
still,  by  means  less  observable  but  equally  efficient, 


THE' LOST   SHEEP  AND   THE   LOST  COIN.   34I 

seek  to  win  men  to  the  recognition  of  His  love  and 
of  all  the  good  He  makes  possible.  The  shepherd 
sought  "  until  he  found  "  his  sheep ;  the  woman 
swept  diligently  "  until  she  found  "  her  coin.  But 
while  God's  search  is  infinitely  more  persistent,  it 
may  be  baffled  by  the  cold  indifference,  the  reso- 
lute badness  of  the  sinner. 

3.  The  third  point  illustrated  by  these  Parables 
is  the  exceeding  joy  consequent  on  the  restoration 
of  the  sinner.  "  Joy  shall  be  in  heaven  over  one 
sinner  that  repenteth  more  than  over  ninety  and 
nine  just  persons  which  need  no  repentance."  The 
joy  is  greater,  because  the  effort  to  bring  it  about  has 
been  greater,  and  because  for  a  time  the  result  has 
been  in  suspense,  so  that  when  the  end  is  attained 
there  is  a  sense  of  clear  gain.  The  joy  of  success  is 
proportioned  to  the  difficulty,  the  doubtfulness  of 
attaining  it.  All  the  hazards  and  sacrifices  of  the 
search  are  repaid  by  the  recovery  of  the  lost.  The 
value  of  the  unfallen  soul  may  intrinsically  be 
greater  than  the  value  of  the  redeemed ;  but  the 
joy  is  proportioned,  not  to  the  value  of  the  article, 
but  to  the  amount  of  anxiety  that  has  been  spent 
upon  it.  So  that  Christ  virtually  says  to  the 
Pharisees:  ''You  murmur  at  Me;  but  if  you  were 
in  sympathy  with  heaven,  you  would  rejoice  with 
Me.  You  need  no  repentance, — at  least  you  think 
so  ;  and  for  this  very  reason  I  seek  to  attract  those 
who  do.  Their  state  is  admittedly  precarious,  and 
to  win  them  will  be  clear  gain  to  the  kingdom  of 


342  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

heaven.  The  finding  is  an  intenser  joy  than  the 
keeping  safe, because  the  loss  has  been  actually  felt 
and  is  now  relieved,  the  pang  of  separation  has 
been  actually  endured  and  is  now  swallowed  up  in 
the  joy  of  restoration." 

To  the  sinner  then,  these  Parables  say,  It  is 
your  unspeakably  happy  privilege  to  give  God 
joy.  There  is  no  joy  comparable  to  the  joy  of 
successful  love  ;  of  love,  that  is  to  say,  not  only 
recognized  and  returned,  but  which  succeeds  in 
making  the  object  of  it  as  happy  as  it  desires,  and 
does  so  after  many  repulses  and  misunderstandings 
and  hazards.  This  is  God's  greatest  joy.  When 
God  succeeds  in  securing  the  happiness, — the  in- 
ward purity  and  rectitude,  and  therefore  the  hap- 
piness,— of  any  one  who  has  been  estranged  from 
Him,  there  is  joy  in  heaven.  What  can  more 
worthily  give  joy  to  intelligent  beings  than  the 
increase  of  goodness?  God's  joy  is  the  unutter- 
able joy  of  the  parent  who  for  many  years  has  been 
anxiously  watching  his  son's  growth,  his  leanings, 
his  temptations,  his  resolutions,  his  declensions, 
his  alienations  of  spirit,  and  at  length  sees  proof 
that  the  lad  is  wholly  sound  at  heart,  that  he  has 
chosen  the  better  part  and  thrown  off  all  vice  that 
clung  to  him  ;  that  he  is  bent  now  upon  a  pure  and 
honorable  life,  and  with  his  own  soul  hates  the 
thought  of  evil ;  that  he  has  finally  abjured  the 
allurements  that  tempted  and  bound  him  formerly, 
and  has  in  himself  that  deep  principle  and  those 


THE   LOST   SHEEP   AND   THE   LOST   COIN.    343 

wise  and  generous  dispositions  which  will  guide 
him  in  all  circumstances  and  in  all  companies. 
This  joy  you  have  it  in  your  power  to  give  to 
God.  There  is  a  joy  which  no  one  but  yourself 
can  excite  in  God,  a  joy  over  your  repentance,  over 
your  return  to  good  ;  a  joy  therefore  which  none 
but  yourself  has  the  humble  glory  of  stirring  in  the 
mind  of  God. 

In  this  joy  the  angels  are  represented  as  shar- 
ing. Their  experience  of  the  blessedness  of  life 
with  God,  gives  them  sympathy  with  all  who  enter 
that  life.  They  know  the  happiness  that  lies  be- 
fore every  one  who  yields  himself  to  God's  pur- 
pose and  to  God's  love,  and  therefore  they  rejoice. 
And  if  it  be  true  that  the  conversion  of  one  soul 
be  so  reasonable  a  ground  of  joy  to  those  who 
are  merely  spectators,  what  unspeakable  gladness 
ought  it  to  bring  to  those  who  themselves  experi- 
ence it  ?  Have  you  ever  had  such  happiness  that 
you  would  deem  it  reasonable  that  all  heaven 
should  rejoice  with  you  in  it  ?  Yet  there  is  such 
happiness  open  to  you.  Uninteresting,  solitary, 
monotonous,  and  unobserved  as  your  life  may 
seem,  it  is,  if  there  be  truth  in  these  words  of  the 
Lord,  an  object  of  intensest  interest  to  God  and 
angels.  With  all  its  evils,  its  fears,  its  misery, 
it  may  be  lifted  to  so  true  a  harmony  with  the  ever- 
living  God,  that  those  pure  and  discerning  spirits 
who  see  it  cannot  forbear  rejoicing  over  it  with 
well-grounded  satisfaction. 


344  THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

If  God  with  all  heaven  is  thus  in  sympathy  with 
I  us,  defeated  in  our  defeat,  triumphing  in  ouf 
'  victory ;  if  the  cause  of  love  and  moral  order  is 
one  throughout  the  universe,  we  have  every 
encouragement  to  play  our  part  well.  It  is  no 
short  and  easy  passage  of  arms  we  are  called  to ; 
we  are  wearied  and  often  overcome  by  the  constant 
accompaniment  of  sin,  weakness,  and  folly  in  all 
we  do  ;  but  in  all  this  evil  and  conflict  there  is 
material  for  victory  and  joy.  Are  you  weighted  by 
nature  with  a  poor  craven  spirit,  a  vain  selfish 
heart,  sordid  or  gross  passions,  a  feeble  incon- 
stant will,  a  nature  that  often  causes  shame? 
Humbly  recognize  all  this  as  what  you  are  actually 
called  to  master ;  do  not  waste  your  energies 
envying  those  who  have  a  better  nature  and  an 
easier  task,  but  face  the  conflict  that  actually 
awaits  you  and  carry  into  it  the  assurance  that 
every  stroke  for  the  right  and  every  defeat  of  evil 
you  accomplish  has  an  echo  of  the  truest  kind  in 
heaven.  Remember  the  greater  joy  God  has  in 
the  painful,  difficult,  penitential  return  of  a  lost 
.  soul  than  in  the  easy  righteousness  of  the  natu- 
!  rally  pure. 


THE  PRODIGAL  SON. 

Luke  xv.    i  1-32. 

In  the  Parables  of  the  Lost  Sheep  and  Lost 
Piece  of  Money,  our  Lord  has  already  shown  that 
the  very  circumstance  that  men  are  lost  inevi- 
tably attracts  towards  them  the  greater  solicitude 
on  God's  part ;  that  so  far  from  their  notoriously 
bad  character  and  gross  breach  of  all  law,  human 
and  Divine,  putting  them  beyond  God's  love,  this 
really  only  provokes  a  more  manifest  and  touching 
exhibition  of  God's  love.  In  this  Parable  He 
repeats  this  lesson,  but  adds  another  figure  to  the 
dramatis  persona;^  a  figure  which  represents  the 
objecting  Pharisees  and  scribes,  and  in  which  they 
might  see  the  unreasonableness  and  hatefulness 
of  the  spirit  which  could  find  fault  with  the  un- 
questioning welcome  and  festal  reception  of  the 
returning  penitent.  There  is  also  another  dif- 
ference between  the  Parables.  The  two  former 
bringinto  great  prominence  the  loss  which  Godsus- 
tains  in  the  lapse  and  destruction  of  the  sinner, 
the  suffering  which  His  love  necessarily  endures 
in  being  prevented  from  achieving  the  happiness 
of  its  object.  In  this  Parable  of  the  Prodigal,  so 
much  is  said  of  the  wretchedness  to  which  the 

345 


34^  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

sinner  is  reduced,  that  while  the  central  figure  it 
still  the  father,  our  attention  is  strongly  directed 
towards  that  which  was  entirely  absent  from  the 
other  Parables,  the  experience  and  change  of  mind 
in  the  lost  sinner  himself.  It  is,  however,  to  be 
borne  in  mind  that  this  description  of  the  sinner's 
misery  is  given  still  to  give  point  and  justification 
to  what  might  otherwise  seem  the  extravagant  joy 
of  the  father.  Had  the  son  been  absent  for  a 
year  or  two  on  a  mercantile  mission  as  his  father's 
agent,  and  were  he  now  returning  successful,  this 
exultation  would  be  out  of  place.  The  miserable 
plight  of  the  prodigal  is  detailed  to  justify  the 
recoil  of  the  father's  feeling  from  long-suppressed 
love,  compassionate  anxiety,  and  longing  to  over- 
flowing, unrestrained  rejoicing. 

The  few  strokes  in  which  the  career  of  the 
prodigal  is  sketched  have  approved  themselves  at 
the  bar  of  universal  experience,  and  have  become 
part  and  parcel  of  the  imagery  in  which  all  of  us 
clothe  our  thoughts.  It  has,  too,  been  kept  alive 
in  the  minds  of  men  by  the  unhappy  circumstance 
that  the  career  here  depicted  is  so  often  actually 
reproduced  in  the  lives  of  young  men  who  start 
with  every  advantage  and  comfort,  and  who  perish 
miserably  in  some  distant  colony,  or  in  a  few  years 
run  through  their  health,  and  come  home  only  to 
die  in  sorrow  and  shame. 

The  beginning  is  the  same  in  all  cases  ;  an  in- 
capacity to  find  the  fullest  enjoyment  in  God's 


THE   PRODIGAL   SON.  347 

love,  God's  presence,  and  God's  ways.  The  son 
grows  weary  of  the  father's  home  ;  he  desires  his 
goods,  but  not  his  presence  ;  he  wishes  to  be  his 
own  master,  believing  that  he  is  cramped  and 
straitened  by  goodness,  and  that  Hberty  to  do 
evil  is  the  true  emancipation.  There  is  nothing 
in  sin  that  affects  us  with  a  keener  sense  of  degra- 
dation than  the  youthful  folly  that  runs  through  it 
all,  the  inexperienced  and  thoughtless  fancy  that 
unless  we  sin  we  have  not  freedom,  and  the  sense 
that  God  would  be  more  to  us  were  He  less  in 
Himself.  He  is  too  good  for  us  to  be  quite  at 
home  in  His  presence.  His  holiness  shames  us 
and  discomforts  us.  His  presence  ceases  to  be 
the  most  grateful,  the  most  enjoyable,  the  easiest. 
What  answer  do  you  get  when  you  ask  yourself, 
Should  I  be  satisfied  were  God  to  give  me  as  my 
own  what  would  make  me  independent  of  Him  ? 
Were  I  sure  of  life,  of  power  to  spend  and  enjoy 
it  as  I  pleased,  with  no  interference  of  punishment 
or  remonstrance  from  God,  would  this  satisfy  me  ? 
Or  would  it  be  itself  a  terrible  punishment  to  me 
to  be  cast  forth  from  God,  even  though  I  had 
provision  for  all  my  future  ?  Were  communion 
with  God  denied  me,  would  this  really  make  a  dif- 
ference to  me,  would  my  life  seem  a  blank?  would 
this  take  the  soul  out  of  all  my  hopes,  all  my 
plans,  all  my  enjoyments?  Should  I  feel  as  a 
homeless  outcast  suddenly  ejected  into  an  un- 
desired,  bleak,  blank  world,  my  heart  unable  to  rest 


348  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

in  anything,  but  turning  ever  back  to  the  Father 
I  had  lost  ? 

When  the  heart  is  thus  alienated,  God  does  not 
desire  a  constrained  bodily  service.  He  does  not 
compel  us  to  abide  with  Him.  If  our  real  desire 
is  for  His  portion,  and  not  for  Himself,  He  gives 
us  our  desire.  He  does  not  treat  us  as  if  we  had 
no  capacity  of  choice.  He  does  not  save  us, 
whether  we  will  or  no.  But  neither  does  He  let 
us  go  without  regret  or  into  oblivion.  The  father 
by  dismissing  his  son  does  not  help  to  lose  him  ; 
but  foreseeing  that  nothing  but  an  experience  of 
the  world's  emptiness  can  bring  him  to  appreciate 
the  home  and  love  of  his  father,  he  sadly  sends 
him  to  this  painful  school.  He  sees  him  away  and 
turns  into  his  house,  and  who  can  tell  the  broken- 
hearted anguish  with  which  in  secret  he  pictures 
to  himself  the  probable  career  of  his  loved  child  ? 
What  servant  on  the  farm  does  not  well  under- 
stand the  sudden  lack  of  interest  in  all  the  work, 
the  absent  look  as  schemes  of  improvement  are 
detailed  to  him,  the  many  signs  that  reveal  that 
his  heart  is  with  his  lost  son,  and  that  all  else  is 
matter  of  indifference  to  him?  But  the  son, 
for  his  part,  after  the  first  pang,  exults  in  the 
freedom  he  has  gained,  wantonly  puts  the  greatest 
distance  between  his  father  and  himself,  does  not 
provide  for  a  return  home,  nor  dreams  of  needing 
further  help,  but  boldly  launches  on  the  world  suf- 
ficient for  himself.     It  is  thus  that  in  the  pride  of 


THE   PRODIGAL   SON.  349 

li^e  when  health  is  unbroken,  and  the  world  un- 
tried, we  reckon  only  on  a  life  of  success  and  grati- 
fication, gather  to  us  all  our  means  and  powers  of 
enjoyment,  and  accept  guidance  solely  from  our 
own  casual  impulses  or  shortsighted  longings, 
without  a  thought  of  the  pain  we  are  inflicting 
on  Him  whose  love  persistently  follows  us,  and 
with  out  a  thought  of  the  misery  we  are  court 
ing. 

How  soon  the  scene  shifts,  and  how  utterly  ! 
The  gay  youth  who  was  foremost  in  every  revel, 
whose  bright  face  and  confident  bearing  seemed 
the  very  embodiment  of  the  pride  of  life,  whose 
wealth  gave  him  command  of  every  form  of 
luxurious  living,  and  to  whom  no  earthly  pleas- 
ure was  unfamiliar — look  at  him  now,  blackened 
with  starvation  and  filth,  clothed  in  the  rags  that 
others  have  thrown  out,  noticed  only  by  those 
who  gaze  with  astonishment  at  him  as  one  who  is 
too  sunken  to  be  helped.  But  to  none  does  he 
look  so  miserable  as  to  himself.  In  his  mind 
alone  is  there  visible  the  full  contrast  between 
what  he  is  and  what  he  was  ;  between  what  he  is 
and  what  he  might  have  been.  The  love  he 
might  have  enjoyed,  the  noble  uses  he  might  have 
served,  the  expansion  of  his  life  under  the  wise 
enterprise  of  his  father,  the  growing  influence  and 
respect,  the  share  in  the  real  work  and  perma- 
nent rewards  of  life  that  might  have  been  his, — 
all  this  gone  beyond  his  reach,  and  in  its  place 


350  THE   PARABLES    OF   OUR   LORD. 

cold  and  filth,  hunger  and  nakedness,  neglect 
and  desolate  bitterness  of  soul. 

Against  how  many  of  us  does  this  picture  lift 
up  its  parable  !  For  he  is  not  the  only  prodigal 
who  in  riotous  pleasure  or  vain  display  brings 
himself  to  beggary  ;  but  he  is  the  prodigal  who 
in  any  way  wastes  the  powers  and  means  God 
gave  him  to  effect  substantial  good  and  results 
that  might  always  be  looked  on  with  pleasure. 
It  seems  a  matter  of  no  importance,  and  gives 
us  not  a  thought  that  we  are  living  for  ourselves  ; 
we  think  that  living  for  God  is  a  height  of  con- 
secration that  some  may  aspire  to,  but  that  it  is 
no  law  of  life  for  all ;  but  we  come  to  find  that  it 
is  just  this  which  makes  the  difference,  and  that 
all  we  have  done  on  any  other  footing  had  far 
better  have  been  left  undone.  We  have  been 
laboriously  carting  stones  into  a  moss  which 
quietly  absorbs  all  our  labor,  and  shows  abso- 
lutely no  result.  If  we  have  spent  our  portion, 
our  talents,  our  opportunities,  our  life,  in  striving 
to  please  ourselves, — if  we  have  not  made  com- 
mon cause  and  partnership  with  God,  and  been 
content  to  have  our  individual  portion  merged  in 
His, — then  manifestly  we  have  as  thoroughly 
alienated  ourselves  and  our  portion  from  God  as 
if  we  had  spent  it  on  riotous  living. 

Indeed  the  riotous  livers  always  seem  to  have 
more  to  say  for  themselves  than  the  more  re- 
spectable self-pleasers.     They  say  or  they   feel, 


THE    PRODIGAL   SON.  35  I 

There  is  a  great  untried  sphere,  a  world  that 
promises  enjoyment,  away  in  that  direction.  Let 
us  try  this  promising  freedom,  let  us  make  ex- 
periment of  that  life  that  lies  beyond  law  and  re- 
straint ;  we  shall  at  least  know  more.  Yes,  as 
John  Ruskin  says,  ''You  now  know  the  habits  of 
swine  and  the  taste  of  husks ;  do  you  think  your 
ratHer  could  not  have  taught  you  to  know  better 
habits  and  pleasanter  tastes,  if  you  had  stayed  in 
his  house ;  and  that  the  knowledge  you  have  lost 
would  not  have  been  more,  as  well  as  sweeter, 
than  that  you  have  gained  ?  "  "  No  one  ever 
gets  wiser  by  doing  wrong,  nor  stronger.  You 
will  get  wiser  and  stronger  only  by  doing  right, 
whether  forced  or  not ;  the  prime,  the  one  need 
is  to  do  that,  under  whatever  compulsion,  till  you 
can  do  it  without  compulsion." 

And  this  is  not  a  mere  critical  remark  made 
upon  us  from  without,  by  one  who  has  different 
tastes  from  ourselves;  it  is  a  truth  that  asserts 
itself  in  the  experience  of  every  prodigal.  The 
famine  comes,  and  the  husks  won't  satisfy.  They 
may  keep  down  the  gnawing  pangs  of  hunger, 
they  may  stay  the  appetite  for  the  hour,  but 
they  do  not  nourish.  Take  any  pleasure  or  pur- 
suit that  is  ungodly,  and  you  know  that  this  is  all 
it  does.  It  passes  the  time,  it  interests  and  en- 
gages you,  it  stays  an  appetite  ;  but  your  nature 
is  not  fed,  the  deepest  parts  of  your  nature  are 
unfilled  ;  yourself  in  that  which  is  most  yourself, 


352  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

is  impoverished.  You  are  not  growing  in  any 
fitness  for  the  future,  you  are  not  gaining  mastery 
of  your  spirit,  you  are  not  enlarging  in  your  love 
of  goodness.  Do  you  wish  proof  of  this?  Have 
you  never  wished  that  your  nature  did  not  re- 
quire anything  better  than  the  world  provides? 
As  this  poor  prodigal  lying  by  the  swine's  trough 
may  sometimes  have  wished  that  he  could  fatten 
on  that  food  as  they  did,  so  it  is  not  a  wholly  un- 
known desire  among  us  to  wish  that  we  were  a 
shade  liker  the  beasts,  that  every  part  of  our  na- 
ture might  be  satisfied  with  that  which  only  satis- 
fies the  lower  parts  of  it,  that  it  were  not  wrong 
to  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  sin,  and  that  God  had 
made  us  for  no  higher  ends  than  our  own  weak 
and  depraved  hearts  aspire  to.  But  our  natures 
will  not  remake  themselves.  They  are  made  for 
God,  and  nowhere  else  can  we  find  eventually 
aught  but  famine.  You  may  as  well  try  to  feed 
a  horse  upon  carrion  or  a  lion  upon  straw.  "  Man 
liveth  by  every  word  that  proceedeth  out  of  the 
mouth  of  God."  We  must  have  assurance  of 
God's  presence  with  us,  and  of  His  love.  He 
must  speak  to  us  words  of  approbation  and  en- 
couragement, we  must  be  on  terms  of  the  truest 
affection  with  Him.  We  live  through  all  our 
being  when  the  words  and  sentiments  that  come 
straight  and  true  from  the  heart  of  God  Himself 
come  home  to  our  hearts,  when  He  manifests 
Himself  to  us, — gives  us  to  understand,  as  with 


THE   PRODIGAL   SON.  353 

His  own  lips,  what  no  other  can  tell  us  of  His 
love, — conveys  to  us  the  inward  assurance  that 
He  is  ours,  and  that  we  are  His  for  evermore. 

If  you  have  learned  that  after  all  enjoyment  of 
this  world,  there  is  a  something  more  you  must 
have  if  enjoyment  is  to  last  ;  if  you  are  not  yet 
wholly  citizens  of  this  world,  but  have  still  some 
feelings  of  the  alien,  some  longings,  however 
faint,  after  another  kind  of  home,  some  indications, 
however  slight,  that  this  is  not  filling  and  feeding 
you,  that  this  may  do  for  a  while,  but  would  be 
misery  if  forever, — if  you  feel,  in  short,  your  need 
of  God, — then  look  and  listen  to  His  Incarnate 
Word.  Christ  is  sent  to  speak  these  words  of 
everlasting  life  to  you,  to  win  you  back  to  your 
true  home  and  Father,  to  be  the  channel  through 
which  the  whole  fulness  of  God's  love  is  poured 
into  your  famishing  spirits,  to  refresh  and  invig- 
orate you  with  undying  hope,  to  loosen  the  hands 
that  are  feely  clutching  the  foul  husks,  and  fill 
them  with  the  bread  that  cometh  from  heaven. 

The  return  of  the  prodigal  was  perhaps  not 
prompted  by  the  very  highest  of  motives.  What 
high  motives  could  you  expect  in  a  man  who  had 
lived  for  his  own  pleasure,  and  was  now  lying 
starving?  But  who  would  be  saved  if  he  had  to 
show  a  repentance  void  of  all  selfishness?  The 
chief  reason  why  men  turn  to  God  is  in  the  great 
majority  of  cases  the  same  as  that  which  prompted 
the  prodigal's  return.  The  prodigal  could  not 
23 


354  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

make  a  better  of  it ;  we  too  have  tried  everything 
else,  and  been  disappointed.  We  do  not  try  God 
until  convinced  that  nothing  else  will  serve  our 
turn.  Health  gives  way,  or  the  spirit  is  broken, 
or  hope  baffled,  or  one  way  or  other  we  find  the 
world  is  not  going  to  be  the  paradise  we  expected. 
The  world  sees  and  says  this  ;  it  sneers  at  conver- 
sion as  if  it  were  unreal,  because  it  is  so  often  the 
result  of  disappointment  with  the  world.  God 
sees  and  says  it  too  ;  but  receives  the  returning 
sinner,  and  in  the  reception  a  better  mind  is  pro- 
duced in  him,  and  his  selfishness  broken. 

Besides,  there  was  even  in  this  compulsory  re- 
turn that  belief  in  the  father's  love  which  con- 
dones all  offenses.  There  was  the  instinctive 
undying  feeling  that  a  parent  is  still  a  parent, 
and  will  receive  when  others  cast  us  out.  You 
have,  I  dare  say,  read  the  experience  of  the  great 
French  philosopher  Diderot.  *'  The  first  few 
years  of  my  life  in  Paris  had  been  rather  irregular, 
my  behavior  was  enough  to  irritate  my  father, 
without  there  being  any  need  to  make  it  worse 
by  exaggeration.  Still  calumny  was  not  wanting. 
People  told  him — well,  what  did  they  not  tell  him  ? 
An  opportunity  for  going  to  see  him  presented 
itself.  I  did  not  give  it  two  thoughts.  I  set  out 
full  of  confidence  in  his  goodness.  I  thought 
that  he  would  see  me,  that  I  should  throw  my- 
self into  his  arms,  that  both  of  us  should  shed 
tears,  and  that  all  would  be  forgotten.     I  thought 


THE  PRODIGAL  SON.  355 

rightly."  So  thought  the  prodigal.  And  what- 
ever his  motives  were,  his  action  was  right.  He 
put  himself  again  within  reach  of  his  father's  love, 
and  that  love  received  him  without  question, 
exulting  in  the  ample  opportunity  of  uttering 
itself.  It  had  opportunity  now  of  helping  its 
pitiable  object,  of  doing  ^//forthe  still  loved  son. 
This  was  no  time  for  inquiry  as  to  why  he  had 
come.  Here  he  was,  and  in  need.  That  is 
enough  for  true  love. 

Nothing  can  surpass  the  pathos  of  the  meeting 
of  father  and  son.  While  the  prodigal  was  ''  yet 
a  great  way  off,"  his  father  saw  him,  and  had 
compassion,  and  ran,  and  fell  on  his  neck,  and 
kissed  him.  It  is  as  if  he  had  been  watching  for 
him  night  and  day  ;  as  when  a  mother  has  lost 
a  son,  she  will  start  at  every  ring  or  footstep, 
thinking  it  may  perhaps  be  he.  Every  feature, 
every  peculiarity  of  gait,  every  line  of  his  figure 
was  imprinted  on  the  father's  heart,  so  that  long 
before  another  eye  could  recognize  him,  the 
father's  heart  had  welcomed  the  son.  He  saw 
him,  and  had  compassion,  simultaneously  ;  there 
was  no  hesitation  to  be  fought  against,  no  pon- 
dering whether  he  should  not  harden  himself 
against  this  heartless  profligate ;  but  as  soon  as 
his  eyes  rested  on  him,  all  his  sorrow  passed  away, 
the  sun  of  his  life  shone  out  again.  The  rags 
that  would  have  disguised  him  from  any  other 
eye  could  not  hide  him  from  the  father;  the  rags 


356     THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

and  misery  that  would  have  tempted  others  to 
spurn  him  as  a  hopeless,  abandoned  creature, 
drew  forth  the  father's  love.  He  ran  to  meet 
him,  everything  else  neglected,  his  own  dignity 
out  of  the  question  ;  he  cares  not  to  require  a 
seemly  submission  on  his  son's  part  that  the  ser- 
vants may  understand  he  is  justified  in  receiving 
him.  There  is  no  attempt  to  impress  upon  the 
son  a  sense  of  his  demerit,  nothing  done  to  make 
sure  that  he  has  a  sufficient  sense  of  guilt  to 
justify  pardon.  The  reason  of  the  father's  receiv- 
ing him  is  not  that ;  is  not  that  the  son  has  a 
sufficient  sense  of  anything,  but  only  that  the 
father  loves  him,  and  the  son  is  now  within  reach 
of  the  father,  will  suffer  him  now  to  show  his  love. 
And  therefore  the  father  runs  as  if  it  were  all  on 
his  side  the  blessing  were,  as  if  it  were  he  who 
was  to  win  favors  from  his  son  ;  he  runs  and  falls 
on  his  neck,  overcome  with  joy,  his  heart  bound- 
ing with  happiness,  his  soul  satisfied,  his  life  com- 
plete. No  words  can  express  the  first  welcome, 
the  father  cannot  find  language  to  utter  the  ful- 
ness of  his  heart ;  but  in  that  eager  embrace,  in 
that  kiss  of  love  and  peace,  the  prodigal  knows 
himself  a  son  still,  as  surely  and  more  vehemently 
loved  by  his  father  than  if  he  had  never  sinned. 

This  is  a  picture  of  the  reception  the  returning 
sinner  receives.  You  may  have  wasted  the  best 
years  of  your  life  in  selfish  gratification,  without 
a  thought  of  serving  God  ;  you  may  have  indulged 


THE   PRODIGAL   SON.  35/ 

in  sins  that  fill  you  with  self-loathing  ;  you  may 
have  sunk  to  a  state  of  heart  that  you  would  be 
ashamed  to  lay  bare  to  the  most  generous  and 
charitable  of  men  ;  you  may  painfully  feel  that 
you  have  nothing  to  offer  to  God  but  the  worth- 
less dregs  of  a  wasted  life  ;  you  may  be  conscious 
that  even  your  heart  is  not  given  to  God  as  it 
ought,  and  that  through  the  whole  of  your  re- 
pentance your  original  selfishness  is  running  ;  but 
only  put  yourself  into  God's  hands  as  you  are, 
and  as  this  father  was  not  hindered  by  the  foul 
and  sour  rags  of  his  son  who  came  to  him  from 
among  the  swine,  but  fell  on  his  neck,  overcome 
by  joy,  so  will  you  find  in  God  no  revulsion,  but 
an  immediate  and  hearty  welcome  that  will  cause 
you  to  rejoice  in  His  love.  You  need  not  fear 
that  you  are  to  be  put  through  some  preparatory 
discipline,  lodged  in  some  sad  and  dreary  moral 
quarantine  till  some  of  the  loathsomeness  and  de- 
filement of  sin  be  worn  off  you.  You  will  not  be 
charged  with  your  sins  and  reminded  of  your 
folly.  All  that  will  be  left  to  yourself,  and  what 
God  does  is  to  meet  you  with  the  tenderest  love, 
and  to  do  everything  to  give  you  assurance  of  it, 
and  wipe  out  the  past.  The  father  does  every, 
thing  to  assure  the  son  of  his  immediate  rein- 
statement as  his  son, — everything  to  relieve  him 
from  fear,  from  want,  from  pain,  from  sadness ; 
and  whatever  God  must  give  us,  if  we  are  to  be 
delivered  from  the  same  sensations,   we  are  war- 


358  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

ranted  in  expecting.  The  father  cannot  do 
enough  for  the  son ;  would  like  him  at  this  hour 
of  return  to  tell  him  of  every  least  way  in  which 
help  could  be  given  him.  It  is  this  that  God 
longs  for,  that  we  give  Him  the  opportunity  of 
blessing  us,  that  we  learn  to  trust  in  His  love, 
and  knowing  that  all  else  has  failed  us,  believe 
that  it  will  prove  sufficient.  And  because  it  is 
love  we  have  to  do  with,  no  one  need  fear  that 
having  been  received  he  will  yet  make  no  progress 
in  all  that  constitutes  man's  real  growth  and  hap- 
piness ;  nor  need  any  one  suppose  that  they  who 
are  received  are  suffered  to  remain  just  what  they 
were.  They  have  been  received  because  they  are 
loved,  and  the  love  of  God  is  not  inactive  nor  in- 
effective, but  does  most  certainly  continue  to 
watch  over  its  objects,  and  to  confer  the  highest 
gifts  upon  them.  Whatever  more  complete  sev- 
erance from  old  habits  and  desires  is  needed, 
whatever  persistence  in  well-doing,  whatever 
deepening  repentance,  whatever  growth  in  know- 
ing and  loving  the  Father  is  requisite, — all  this 
will  most  certainly  be  given. 

And  now  in  contrast  to  this  joy  of  God  in  the 
returning  sinner,  our  Lord  sets  the  cold-hearted 
jealousy  of  the  Pharisaically  righteous  man.  He 
not  only  justifies  His  own  conduct  by  showing 
how  the  father  acts,  but  condemns  the  objections 
of  the  Pharisees  by  holding  up  to  them  in  this 
elder  brother  a  mirror  in  which  they  may  see 


THE    PRODIGAL   SON.  359 

their  own  hateful  likeness.  The  Pharisees  had 
murmured  against  our  Lord,  ''  This  man  re- 
ceiveth  sinners;"  He  shows  them  an  elder 
brother  saying  of  his  father,  "  This  man  receiveth 
a  sinner,"  and  leaves  them  to  draw  their  own  con- 
clusion. Every  touch  in  the  description  brings 
out  some  ungenial,  servile,  grudging,  and  envious 
feature  of  his  character.  He  was  ''  in  the  fields  " 
when  his  brother  came  ;  too  busy  with  his  indus- 
trious and  useful  labors  to  share  in  his  father's 
earnest  watching  for  the  prodigal's  return  ;  not 
perceiving  from  his  mercenary  point  of  view  that 
he  might  have  pleased  his  father  immeasurably 
more  by  going  after  and  recovering  his  lost 
brother  than  by  an  ostentatious  and  punctilious 
performance  of  his  own  private  duties  ;  not  even 
having  such  insight  into  his  father's  heart  as 
would  have  enabled  him  to  guess  the  one  occur- 
rence that  could  have  given  his  father  such  glad- 
ness ;  not  even  observing  that  by  contrasting  his 
own  life  of  toil  with  his  brother's  riotous  living, 
he  betrays  his  own  secret  liking  for  that,  and 
proves  that  his  service  had  been  the  heavy,  un- 
acceptable task  of  one  who  is  not  in  sympathy 
with  either  the  object  of  the  work  or  him  who  set 
him  to  it.  Thus  may  a  man,  after  years  of  res- 
pectable living,  disclose  a  heart  alien  from  God, 
and  out  of  sympathy  with  Him  ;  thus  may  he  dis- 
close that  his  whole  past  life  has  been  unloving 
and  self-seeking. 


360  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

But  as  the  father  was  patient  and  loving  with 
the  younger  brother,  so  is  he  with  the  elder.  He 
answers  his  bitter  words  and  audacious  reproaches 
in  a  tone  of  surprised  and  pained  yet  gentle  and 
encouraging  remonstrance :  *'  Son,  thou  art  ever 
with  me,  and  all  that  I  have  is  thine."  Why 
grudge  thy  brother  this  hour  of  gladness,  when 
the  calm  and  even  joy  of  abundant  life  has  all 
along  been  thine  ?  I  have  never  given  thee  a  kid, 
because  all  I  have  is  thine.  We  have  mistaken 
one  another.  I  thought  that  to  be  with  me  from 
day  to  day,  sharing  my  thoughts,  my  plans,  my 
joy,  my  prosperity,  would  be  enough  for  you. 
As  I  am  satisfied  in  my  work,  in  increasing  good, 
and  in  thy  love,  I  judged  that  you  also  were  find- 
ing it  your  joy  to  be  with  me,  my  partner  in  all 
things.  But  now  I  see  you  have  been  serving  as 
a  slave,  doing  your  work  not  for  its  sake,  not  for 
mine,  but  for  reward. 

There  is  sufficient  Pharisaism  in  each  of  us  to 
justify  the  application  of  this  to  ourselves.  They 
who  have  long  served  God  with  care  and  diligence 
and  yet  find  their  life  a  hard  struggle,  with  few 
bright  passages,  many  disappointments,  and  never 
joy  such  as  the  penitent  at  once  enters  into,  nat- 
urally feel  some  soreness  that  one  step  should 
bring  a  life-long  sinner  abreast  of  them.  You 
may  have  been  striving  all  your  days  to  be  use- 
ful, and  making  great  sacrifices  to  further  what 
you  believe  to  be  the  cause  of  God,  and  yet  you 


THE   PRODIGAL   SON.  361 

cannot  point  to  any  success;  but  suddenly  a  man 
converted  yesterday  takes  your  place,  and  all 
things  seem  to  shape  themselves  to  his  hand,  and 
the  field  that  was  a  heart-break  to  you  is  fertile 
to  him.  You  have  denied  yourself  every  pleasure 
that  you  might  know  the  happiness  of  communion 
with  God,  and  you  have  not  known  it,  but  you 
see  a  banquet  spread  in  God's  presence  for  him 
who  has  till  this  hour  been  delighting  in  sin. 
You  have  had  neither  the  riotous  living  nor  the 
fatted  calf.  You  have  gone  among  the  aban- 
doned and  neglected,  and  striven  to  enlighten  and 
lift  them  ;  you  have  done  violence  to  your  own 
feelings  that  you  might  be  helpful  to  others; 
and,  so  far  as  5^ou  can  see,  nothing  has  come  of  it. 
But  another  man  who  has  lived  irregularly,  who 
has  not  prepared  himself  for  the  work,  who  is 
untaught,  imprudent,  unsatisfactory,  has  the  im- 
mediate joy  of  winning  souls  to  God.  Have  you 
not  been  tempted  to  say,  ^'  Verily  I  have  cleansed 
my  heart  in  vain,  and  washed  my  hands  in  inno- 
cency".**  All  this  may  be  needful  to  convince 
you  that  it  is  not  service  that  wins  God's  love; 
that  His  love  is  with  you  now,  and  that  your  ac- 
ceptance of  it  will  make  all  that  has  seemed  to 
you  grievous  to  be  light  and  happy.  Take  refuge 
from  all  failure  and  disappointment  in  the  words, 
"  Son,  I  am  ever  with  thee,  and  all  that  I  have  is 
thine."  Learn  to  find  your  joy  in  Him,  and  you 
will  be  unable  tothj^k  of  any  reward. 


THE  UNJUST  STEWARD. 
Luke  xvi.  1-13. 

The  occasion,  and  therefore  the  intention,  of 
the  last  Parables  we  considered — those  of  the  pre- 
ceding chapter — were  obvious.  They  formed  our 
Lord's  defense  of  His  solicitude  for  great  sin- 
ners. The  occasion  and  intention  of  the  Para- 
bles in  this  chapter  are  not  so  obvious.  But  it 
would  appear  that  the  same  crowd  was  yet 
around  Him.  There  were  Pharisees  still  hanging 
about,  as  the  fourteenth  verse  shows.  But  what 
our  Lord  had  now  to  say  was  not  addressed  direct- 
ly to  them,  as  the  three  preceding  Parables  had 
been,  but  "  to  His  disciples"  ;  and  very  probably 
it  was  for  the  sake  of  the  publicans  and  rich  men 
among  these  disciples  that  His  teaching  took  the 
peculiar  cast  it  now  did.  These  publicans  and 
sinners  had  suddenly  been  made  aware  of  the 
fact  that  the  fraud,  extortion,  violence,  and  luxuri- 
ous  living  which  had  made  them  outcasts  from 
the  purest  Jewish  society  had  rather  attracted 
towards  them  an  exceptional  solicitude  on  God's 
part.  The  place  they  still  held  in  God's  love  had 
been  vividly  set  before  them.  Ihe  value  He  set 
upon  them,  the  eagerness  of  His  desire  to  recover 
362 


THE   UNJUST   STEWARD.  363 

mem,  the  glad  welcome  and  full  forgiveness  with 
which  they  were  met,  had  been  brought  home  to 
their  hearts  with  irresistible  force.  Being  but 
men,  and  men  whose  character  had  been  sapped 
by  constant  familiarity  with  crime,  and  whose 
views  of  all  transactions  were  determined  by  their 
own  selfish  habits,  it  was  natural  that  they  should 
be  tempted  to  think  less  severely  of  their  sin 
than  was  right.  It  is  true  that  nothing  so  cleanses 
the  heart  as  the  knowledge  of  God's  love.  To 
be  overcome  by  God's  love  is  the  only  effectual 
cleansing  and  bar  against  sin.  But  as  yet  the  holi- 
ness of  God's  love  had  not  been  signalized  in  the 
cross,  and  there  was  a  danger,  as  there  is  even 
now  a  danger,  of  the  penitent  luxuriating  in  the 
love  of  God,  while  oblivious  that  this  love  is 
consumingly  holy.  It  is  at  last  the  holiness  of 
God^s  love  that  gives  it  its  power ;  at  last  we 
come  to  see  that  His  love  and  His  holiness  are 
one  and  the  same  thing ;  but  at  first  we  are 
tempted  to  forget  that  the  love  of  God  burns  to 
make  us  holy  as  Himself. 

Apparently,  therefore,  though  not  certainly, 
these  Parables  were  spoken  that  the  publicans 
might  distinctly  understand  how  their  ill-gotten 
gains  were  to  be  used.  They  were  to  be  taught 
that,  though  their  past  is  forgiven,  they  have  a 
duty  to  do  with  the  gains  they  have  made.  And 
they  are  addressed  as  men  thoroughly  versed  in  all 
the  ways  of  monied  men,  wide  awake  to  appre. 


364  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

ciate  hard  work,  vigilance,  enterprise,  and  prompti. 
tude.  And  the  aim  of  this  first  Parable  is  to  im- 
press on  them  the  necessity  of  carrying  over  with 
them  into  the  kingdom  of  God  the  qualities  which 
had  made  them  successful  in  the  kingdom  of 
mammon.  They  are  to  use  the  world's  opportuni- 
ties, and  especially  what  we  significantly  call 
"  means,"  with  the  same  vigor  and  sagacity,  but 
for  higher  ends ;  they  are  so  to  usd  their  op- 
portunities that,  when  they  terminate,  they  shall 
have  served  to  provide  a  competence  for  eternity. 
The  figure  or  character  through  whom  this  les- 
son is  conveyed  is  one  with  which  they  were 
perfectly  familiar  and  had  daily  transactions.  In- 
deed, it  is  not  unlikely  that  when  the  unjust 
steward  was  described,  significant  glances  would 
be  exchanged  by  some  of  the  crowd  who  had 
good  reason  to  know  how  close  to  reality  the  des- 
cription lay.  He  was  a  steward ;  not  a  farm  stew- 
ard, or  a  house  steward,  but,  in  modern  language, 
an  agent,  factor,  or  "  man  of  business."  He  was 
apparently  much  employed  in  the  receipt  of  rents, 
the  tenants  paying  to  the  landlord  not  a  regular 
sum  of  money,  but  a  proportion  of  the  harvest ;  and 
apparently,  also,  it  depended  on  the  tenant  himself 
to  say  truthfully,  subject  no  doubt  to  the  inspection 
of  the  steward,  what  the  crop  of  each  year  yielded, 
and  how  much  was  due  to  the  landlord  as  his  pro- 
portion. Each  tenant  gave  in,  it  seems,  a  bill  to 
the  steward  stating  the  amount  as  his  debt  to  the 


THE   UNJUST  STEWARD.  365 

landlord,  as  his  rent  due  ;  so  that  it  lay  between 
the  tenant  and  the  steward  to  be  true  or  to  impose 
upon  the  landlord.     The  landlord  would  make  it 
the  steward's  interest  to  be  watchful  and  faithful, 
but  there  might  yet  be  some  collusion   between 
the  steward  and  the  tenants.     They  might   agree 
to  state  the  crop  as  less  than   it  had  been,  and 
therefore  the  landlord's  proportion  as  less.     And 
in  this  case,  as  the  Parable  also  shows,   the   land- 
lord had  no  redress.     He  had,   in   the   first  place, 
no  direct  means  of  informing  himself  of  the  real 
amount  of  the  harvest  in  the  olive  yards  or  corn 
lands ;  and  even  if,  as  in  the  case  before  us,  some 
interested  party  informed  him  of  the  fraud  that 
was  being  practised  upon  him,  he  had  no  redress  ; 
for  it  seems  to  have  been  established  by  law  that 
what  the  steward   did   the   landlord   did.     There 
was  no  legal  redress  against  a  steward's  infidelity, 
no  legal  means  of  recovering   from   the  tenants 
what  had  been  kept  back  by  the  steward's  sanction. 
When  this  steward  of  the    Parable  was  called 
to  give  an  account  of  his  stewardship,  he  at  once 
saw  that  it  was  at  least  quite  in  vain   to  think   of 
talking  his  employer  over,  so  that  he   might  still 
be  retained  in  his  service.     Without  a  thought  of 
idle  lamentation  he  at  once  faces  the  question, 
what  was  to  be  done  when  discharged.     A  life  of 
luxury  had  unfitted    him  for    manual  labor;  he 
had  spoiled  his  chance  of  getting  any  other  such 
situation  as  he  now  held  ;  and  he  who  had  been 


366  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

regarded  with  greater  dread  than  his  master 
could  not  bring  his  mind  to  begging  his  bread. 
He  sees  at  once  the  difficulty  of  his  position,  and, 
displaying  here  a  business-like  promptitude,  sets 
himself  to  devise  some  scheme  for  extricating 
himself.  The  stewardship  would  be  his  no  longer  ; 
it  was  already  slipping  through  his  fingers,  but 
out  of  this  fragment  of  stewardship  that  remained 
to  him  he  resolved  to  make  for  himself  a  com. 
petent  provision.  While  his  master  was  laying 
to  his  charge  one  defalcation  after  another,  his 
quick  apprehension  was  taking  in  every  element 
in  his  position  ;  and  undismayed  by  the  ruin  that 
stared  him  in  the  face,  he  held  his  sagacity  so 
completely  at  command  that  he  lighted  on  a  solii. 
tion  of  his  difficulty.  As  his  employer  came  to 
the  last  item  in  his  indictment,  and  was  pronounc- 
ing his  dismissal,  the  subtle  and  active  and  self- 
possessed  steward  was  saying  in  himself,  "  I  have 
it  "  ;  "  I  see  what  to  do."  And  he  was  confident 
that  he  had  resolved  aright ;  there  is  no  sus- 
picous  flurry  in  his  dealing  with  his  lord's  debtors, 
but  only  the  speed  which  he  knew  he  must  use 
if  his  scheme  w^as  to  be  of  any  avail.  One  after 
another  of  the  debtors  of  his  lord  was  delighted 
by  having  a  large  part  of  his  debt  remitted  to 
him.  They  cannot  but  feel  most  grateful  for 
something  like  the  gift  of  half  a  year's  income  ; 
and  the  steward  at  once  sees  that  he  has  secured 
the  gratitude   and    goodwill  of  some    well-to-do 


THE   UNJUST   STEWARD.  36/ 

men,  who  in  turn  will  stand  by  him.  The  plan 
was,  of  course,  thoroughly  unprincipled  and  dis- 
honest. It  was  simply  stealing,  taking  out  of  his 
master's  pocket,  and  banking  the  stolen  money 
in  the  houses  of  these  new  friends.  Yet  the  plan 
was  admirably  ingenious.  There  could  not  in- 
deed have  been  any  other  extrication  from  his 
difficulty  so  entirely  devoid  of  evil  consequences 
to  himself,  so  completely  furnishing  him  with  all 
that  he  aimed  at.  Had  he  perpetrated  a  direct 
theft,  the  law  could  have  pursued  him  ;  but  he 
acted  still  as  steward,  so  that  what  he  did  must  hold 
as  law,  and  his  lord  had  no  redress.  So  felicitous 
was  the  device,  that  the  landlord,  though  himself 
the  loser  by  it,  cannot  withhold  his  admiration  of 
this  parting  proof  his  steward  had  given  him  of 
his  ready-wittedness.  He  had  humor  enough  to 
enjoy  the  man's  cleverness,  candor  enough  to 
praise  his  prudence.  ''  His  lord  commended  the 
unjust  steward,  because  he  had  done  wisely." 

It  is  perhaps  scarcely  necessary  to  observe 
that  rt  is  merely  the  wisdom,  the  practical  sagac- 
ity,  the  savoir  faire  of  the  steward  that  is  com^ 
mended  to  our  attention  and  imitation.  A  bad 
thing  may  be  well  done.  The  most  admirable 
quahties — industry,  perseverance,  bravery,  quick- 
ness— may  serve  to  accomiplish  a  wicked  as  well 
as  a  righteous  purpose.  Few  can  withhold  a 
tribute  of  applause  from  the  forger  who  success- 
fully copies  a  very  difficult  bank-note,  or  elaborr 


368  THE   PARABLES   OF  OUR   LORD. 

ates  a  professedly  medieval  document  so  as  to 
deceive  even  the  experts.  No  one  commends 
the  morality  of  David  when  he  played  the  mad- 
man at  Gath,  and  scrabbled  on  the  gate,  but  who 
has  not  smiled  at  his  skill  in  meeting  the  occa- 
sion, in  overreaching  all  his  enemies,  and  making 
them  serve  him  by  the  simple  device  of  hiding 
the  brightest  intellect  of  the  age  under  the  vacant, 
silly  stare  of  the  idiot? 

The  wisdom  of  the  unjust  steward,  which  we  are 
invited  to  admire,  appeared  mainly  in  his  business- 
like apprehension  of  the  actual  situation  in  which 
he  was  placed,  and  his  sagacity  and  promptitude 
in  making  the  most  of  it.  He  looked  the  facts  in 
the  face.  He  did  not  buoy  himself  up  with  delu- 
sive hopes.  He  did  not  waste  his  brief  oppor- 
tunity in  idle  expectations.  He  did  not  fool 
himself  by  thinking,  "  I'll  never  need  any  other 
home  than  the  one  I  now  have,"  but  recognizing 
that  he  would  soon  be  turned  out  of  his  present 
home  and  employment,  and  knowing  that  nothing 
is  more  desirable  to  a  man  out  of  a  situation  than 
a  friend's  house  where  he  can  be  quite  at  home, 
^e  takes  steps  to  provide  this  for  himself.  He 
manfully  faced  the  inevitable,  and  this  was  his 
salvation.  The  ability  to  do  so  is  a  great  part  of 
what  is  known  as  a  strong  character.  It  is  a  great 
part  of  that  wisdom  of  the  children  of  this  world, 
which  surpasses  the  wisdom  of  the  children  of 
light.     It  is  this  that  makes  the  successful  general, 


THE   UNJUST  STEWARD.  369 

the  trusted  statesman,  the  skilful  man  of  business. 
To  be  able  to  distinguish  between  what  we  would 
wish  to  be  the  case,  and  what  actually  is  the  case  ;  j 
to  be  able  to  brush  aside  all  that  blinds,  and  look 
steadily  at  realities — this  is  the  beginning  of  prac- 
tical wisdom.  The  wise  man  may,  for  example, 
ardently  desire  that  his  son  should  enter  a  certain 
profession,  but  he  will  not  allow  this  desire  to 
blind  him  to  the  qualities  which  unfit  the  lad  for 
it ;  he  will  not  fight  against  fate. 

By  holding  up  for  our  imitation  this  style  of 
man,  our  Lord  suggests  to  us  to  inquire  whether 
we  are   thus   apprehending   the   situation.     The  >. 
children  of  this  world  have  a  clear  idea  of  what/ 
they  aim  at,  and  they  steadily  and  consistently! 
pursue  their  aims.     Their  aim  may  be  wholly  "  of 
this  world  ;"  but  they  are  not  distracted  by  desir- 
ing one  thing,  while  they  profess  to  be  desiring 
another.     They  make  everything  subserve  their 
actual    purpose,    and  do  not  disguise   the  facts. 
Are  we  as  clear-sighted  and  as  single-eyed  ?     Here 
is  one  large  fact,  for  example,  regarding  our  con- 
dition in  this  world.     We_aj:e-stejjzardsjwho  must 
shortly^^ize-^count  of  our   stewardship.^^url 
opportunities  are  rapidly  narrowing  down.     We  ' 
should  have  had  a  very  short  and  strong  term  to 
apply   to  this  steward  of  the  Parable,  if  he  had 
made   light  of  the  message  his  lord  sent  him, — if 
he  had  said  to  himself,  "  I  have  been  so  long  my 

own  master,  not  interfered  with,  allowed  to  do  as 
24 


3/0     THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

I  like,  and  live  comfortably,  that  I  don't  believe  I 
am  a  steward.  I  am  called  a  steward,  but  that  is 
merely  a  title.  If  my  lord  does  come, — though  I 
do  not  believe  he  will, — it  will  be  all  right.  He 
has  always  allowed  me  to  do  as  I  please,  and  I  do 
not  believe  in  this  calling  to  account."  Our  friend 
of  the  Parable  was  no  such  fool.  He  knew  how 
the  case  actually  stood ;  he  had  a  very  lenient 
master,  but  he  himself  was  but  a  steward. 
I  Let  us  also  then  be  clear  in  our  minds  whether 
€  are  stewards  or  masters  ;  whether  we  are  to 
stay  here  for  ever,  or  must  shortly  go  hence  and 
find  another  home ;  whether  we  are  ourselves 
isupreme,  or  whether  we  can  be  called  to  account. 
Let  us  face  the  facts  of  our  existence  here,  and 
understand  the  terms  on  which  we  live  in  this 
world.  If  we  are  stewards,  set  here  to  act  justly, 
and  faithfully  to  use  for  higher  interest  than  our 
own  whatever  is  in  our  power,  then  let  us  recog- 
nize that  it  is  quite  in  vain  for  us  to  think  of 
working  any  other  principle.  You  might  as  well 
build  a  house  on  the  understanding  that  never 
more  will  there  be  either  wind  or  rain.  Nature 
pays  no  respect  to  your  understandings,  but  acts 
out  her  own  laws  without  warning  and  without 
apology.  You  do  not  alter  facts  by  hiding  your 
eyes  like  the  ostrich.  You  are  called  upon  to  as- 
sert your  manhood  by  ascertaining  what  are  the 
facts  and  laws  of  human  life,  and  by  frankly  ac- 
cepting them,   knowing  that   they    not  only  are 


THE   U^7UST   STEWARD.  37 1 

inexorable,  but  are  also  the  best  for  you.  If  we 
do  not  ascertain  the  very  terms  on  which  we  are 
living,  and  using  what  we  use,  the  judgment  we 
must  pronounce  upon  ourselves  is  certainly  that 
we  are  dishonest,  and  fools  into  the  bargain. 

But  our  Lord  makes  a  special  application  of 
the  example  of  the  steward  :  "  Make  to  yourselves  \ 
friends  of  the  mammon  of  unrighteousness,  that, 
when  it  fails,  they  may  receive  you  into  everlasting 
habitations."  The  steward  made  use  of  his  de- 
parting power  over  his  master's  goods  with  such 
skill  and  effect,  that  when  this  power  was  taken 
from  him  he  found  himself  welcomed  into  com- 
fortable houses.  You,  says  our  Lord,  ought  to  \ 
make  such  use  of  your  opportunities,  and  especially 
of  your  share  of  the  unrighteous  mammon,  that, 
when  it  fails  you,  and  you  cease  to  have  any  power 
over  it,  you  may  find  yourselves  welcomed  into 
everlasting  habitations.  Doubtless  this  is  a  Par- 
able specially  for  rich  men,  specially  for  those 
whose  opportunities  are  considerable,  who  may  be 
called  stewards  as  having  manifestly  a  responsibil- 
ity to  God  on  the  one  hand,  and  to  men  of  inferior 
station  on  the  other.  The  Parable  is  full  of  en- 
couragement to  such.  It  reminds  them  that  the 
opportunity  given  them  by  being  rich  and  in- 
fluential is  no  slight  one,  that  the  power  of  wealth 
does  not  terminate  with  this  world,  that  they  need 
not  greedily  and  fearfully  try  to  get  the  utmost 
selfish  enjoyment  out  of  their  money  while  they 


372      THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

have  it,  because  it  must  soon  be  beyond  their 
power  ;  but^  on  the  contrary,  that  they  may  so  use 
it  as  to  secure  eternal  comfort.  They  can  so  invest 
it  that  the  interest  shall  be  paid  them  as  regularly 
in  the  world  to  come  as  here.  They  may,  in  short, 
be  eternally  the  better  for  being  rich  men  in  this 
world.  The  love  of  money  is  the  root  of  all  evil, 
but  the  possession  of  it  is  an  opportunity  of  much 
good. 

It  need  scarcely  be  said  that,  if  money  is  to 
serve  this  eternal  purpose,  it  must  be  invested 
with  some  better  feelings  than  the  mere  selfish 
foresight  of  the  steward.  And  here  lies  the 
difficulty ;  a  man  may  have  love  enough  to  give 
away  a  little,  but  he  who  has  great  wealth  needs 
great  love.  It  is  like  every  other  great  oppor- 
tunity, it  needs  some  greatness  in  the  man  to 
use  it  greatly.  At  the  same  time  it  may  be 
questioned  whether  in  our  day  there  is  not  just 
rather  too  much  said  against  doing  good  for  the 
sake  of  reward.  The  selfishness  which  buys  an 
eternal  inheritance  at  the  price  of  great  earthly 
advantages  is  not  so  very  common  a  failing  that 
much  need  be  said  against  it.  And,  to  say  the 
least,  the  selfishness  that  can  sacrifice  money  and 
earthly  comforts  for  the  sake  of  future  and 
heavenly  happiness  is  a  nobler  thing  and  a  much 
better  thing  for  the  community  than  the  selfish- 
ness which  spends  on  display  and  pleasure  with- 
out   a  thought  of  the  future,  or  hoards  with  a 


THE   UNJUST   STEWARD.  373 

view  to  satisfy  the  vulgar  ambition  of  being  rich, 
or  without  any  view  at  all. 

But  although  this  Parable  was  spoken  to  rich 
men,  and  for  their  special  good,  we  have  all  more 
or  less  of  the  mammon  of  unrighteousness.  Mam- 
vion  is  just  the  Syriac  word  for  money,  and  it  is  f 
called  **  unrighteous  "  or  *'  unjust,"  because  those  ! 
to  whom  our  Lord  was  speaking  had  made  their  | 
money  by  injustice.  It  was  as  little  their  own 
as  the  unjust  steward's  was.  The  steward  was 
unjust  because  he  had  not  regarded  himself  as  a 
steward ;  and  in  so  far  as  we  have  forgotten  this 
fundamendal  circumstance,  we  also  are  unjust. 
We  may  not  have  consciously  wronged  any  man 
or  defrauded  any  ;  but  if  we  have  omitted  to 
consider  what  was  due  to  God  and  man,  the 
likelihood  is  we  have  more  money  than  we  have 
aT  right  to.  The  name,  indeed,  *'  unrighteous 
mammon,"  is  sometimes  sweepingly  applied  to 
all  wealth  and  material  advantages,  because  there 
is  a  feeling  that  the  whole  system  of  trade,  com- 
merce, and  social  life  is  inextricably  permeated 
with  fraudulent  practises  and  iniquitous  customs 
— so  permeated  that  no  man  can  be  altogether 
free,  or  is  at  all  likely  to  be  altogether  free,  from 
all  guilt  in  this  matter.  Take  any  coin  out  of  your 
pocket  and  make  it  tell  its  history,  the  hands  it 
has  been  in,  the  things  it  has  paid  for,  the  trans- 
actions it  has  assisted,  and  you  would  be  inclined 
to  fling  it  away  as  contaminated  and  filthy.     But 


374  THE    PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

that  coin  is  a  mere  emblem  of  all  that  comes  to 
you  through  the  ordinary  channels  of  trade,  and 
suggests  to  you  the  pollution  of  the  whole  social 
condition.  The  clothes  you  wear,  the  food  you 
eat,  the  house  you  live  in,  the  money  you  are 
asked  to  invest,  have  all  a  history  which  will  not 
bear  scrutiny.  Oppression,  greed,  and  fraud  serve 
you  every  day.  Whether  you  will  or  not  you  are 
made  partakers  of  other  men's  sins.  You  may 
be  thankful  if  your  hands  are  not  soiled  by  any 
stain  that  you  have  wittingly  incurred  ;  but  even 
so,  you  must  ask,  what  compensation  can  I  make 
for  the  unrighteousness  which  cleaves  to  mam- 
mon ?  how  am  I  to  use  it  now,  seeing  I  have  it  ? 
Our  Lord  says,  "  You  are  to  make  friends  with 
it  who  may  receive  you  into  everlasting  habita- 
tions." You  are  so  to  use  your  opportunities 
that  when  your  present  stewardship  is  over  you 
may  not  be  turned  out  in  the  cold  and  to  beg- 
gary, but  may  have  secured  friends  who  will  give 
you  a  welcome  to  the  eternal  world.  It  is  the 
same  view  of  the  connection  of  this  world  and 
the  next  which  our  Lord  gives  in  His  picture  of 
the  last  judgment,  when  He  says,  "  Inasmuch  as 
ye  have  done  it  to  the  least  of  these,  ye  have 
done  it  unto  Me."  Those  whom  we  have  done 
most  good  to  are,  as  a  rule,  those  whom  we  have 
most  loved ;  and  what  better  welcome  to  a  new 
world,  what  more  grateful  guidance  in  its  ways 
could  we  desire  than  that  of  those  whom   here 


THE   UNJUST   STEWARD.  375 

on  earth  we  have  loved  most  dearly  ?  Can  you 
promise  yourselves  any  better  reward  than  to 
meet  the  loving  recognition  and  welcome  of  those 
who  have  experienced  your  kindness :  to  be  re- 
ceived by  those  to  whom  you  have  willingly 
sacrificed  money,  time,  opportunities  of  serving 
yourself?  The  parents  whose  closing  years  you 
watched  and  sheltered  at  the  sacrifice  of  the  op- 
portunities of  your  own  youth,  the  children  for 
whom  you  have  toiled,  the  friend  or  relative 
whose  long  sickness  you  brightened  and  retarded 
by  unwearied  affection,  the  acquaintance  you  kept 
from  poverty  by  timely  intervention,  the  lad  whose 
whole  life  you  lifted  to  a  higher  level  by  giving 
him  the  first  step — all  those  whom  you  have  so 
loved  here  that  your  service  of  them  has  been 
ungrudging  and  unthought  of — these  are  they 
who  will  receive  you  into  everlasting  habitations. 
But  if  any  one  staggers  at  such  a  reading  of  the 
Parable,  there  is  no  necessity  that  the  ''  friends  " 
be  considered  as  persons.  The  word  '*  friends  " 
is  used  only  for  the  sake  of  keeping  up  the  figure 
introduced  by  the  Parable,  and  may  be  legiti- 
mately applied  to  anything  on  which  you  spend 
yourself,  and  which  you  should  like  to  renew  ac- 
quaintance with  in  eternity.  It  is  possible,  this 
Parable  reminds  us,  so  to  spend  the  time  of  our 
stewardship  here  that  we  shall  hereafter  live  upon 
the  happy  results  of  what  we  have  here  done. 
The  happy  idea  of  the  steward  was  to  spend  what 


j576  THE    PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

was  left  in  his  hands,  not  on  himself,  but  on  those 
with  whom  he  would  have  to  do  after  he  was 
ousted  from  office.  It  was  this  which  showed  his 
business  capacity.  An  ordinary  rogue  would 
merely  have  exacted  more  from  his  master's  debt- 
ors and  decamped  with  the  whole.  But  far 
deeper  was  the  plan  of  this  astute  individual ;  he 
would  not  eat  his  seed-corn  in  this  rough  style. 
The  little  he  could  make  out  of  the  few  remain- 
ing transactions  he  could  do  for  his  master,  he 
handed  over  to  others,  knowing  that  their  friend- 
ship and  good-will  would  return  him  a  hundred- 
fold. And  you  may  do  the  same.  Your  life  you 
may  either  spend  or  invest.  You  may  use  it 
either  as  seed  or  you  may  devour  it.  You  may 
so  live  that  death  will  close  all  and  shut  you  out 
into  outer  darkness,  or  you  may  so  live  that 
death  shall  usher  you  into  an  everlasting  home, 
peopled  with  familiar  faces  that  recognize  and 
reassure  you,  and  show  you  that  in  substance 
eternity  is  not  so  very  different  from  time,  and 
lead  you  to  and  assign  to  you  your  exact  position 
in  the  eternal  world  and  your  real  place  among  men. 
These  brilliant  and  memorable  apophthegms 
which  form  a  kind  of  appendix  to  the  Parable 
can  be  only  briefly  alluded  to.  The  Parable  is 
forgotten  in  the  momentous  reality  it  has  served 
to  set  before  our  minds  ;  and  the  great  law  is 
enounced,  "  He  that  is  faithful  in  that  which  is 
least  is  faithful  also  in  much  :  and  he  that  is  un- 


THE   UNJUST   STEWARD.  377 

just  in  the  least  is  unjust  also  in   much."     Here  f 
are  two  great  truths  suggested  to   us:    ist,  Tha:[ 
we  are  here   in  this  world  merely  on   trial,   and 
serving    our  apprenticeship;    and  2d,  That  it  i:; 
our  fidelity  that  is  tried,  not   so  much   whether  | 
we  have  done  great  or  little  things,  but  whether!  j 
we  have  shown  the  spirit  which   above  all  else  ay 
steward   should    show — fidelity    to   the    interests  1 
entrusted  to  him.     The  two  verses  following,  in  ' 
which  this  is  applied,  may  best  be  illustrated  by 
familiar  figures.     ''If,"  says  our  Lord,   "ye  have 
not  been   faithful    in  the   unrighteous  mammon, 
who  will  commit  to  your  trust  that  which  is  real  ?  " 
He  considers  us  all  in  this  world  as  children  busy 
with  mere  playthings   and  toys,   though   so   pro- 
foundly in  earnest.     But  looking  at  children  so 
engaged  you  can  perfectly  see  the  character  of 
each.     Although  the  actual  things  they  are  doing 
are  of  no  moment  or  reality,   although,  with  a 
frankness    and   penetration    not    given    to   their 
elders,  they  know  they  are  but  playing,  yet  each 
is  exhibiting  the  very  qualities  which  will  after- 
wards make  or  mar  him,  the  selfish  greed  and 
fraud  of  one  child  being  as  patent  as  the  guile- 
less open-handedness  of  the  other.     To  the  watch- 
ful parent  these  games  that  are  forgotten   in  the 
night's  sleep,  these  buildings  which  as   soon  as 
complete    are    swept    away   to    make   room    for 
others,  are  as  thorough   a  revelation  of  the  char- 
acter of  the  child  as  affairs  of  state  and  compli- 


3/8      THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

cated  transactions  are  ot  the  grown  man.  And 
if  the  parent  sees  a  grasping  selfishness  in  his 
child,  or  a  domineering  inconsiderateness  of  every 
one  but  himself,  as  he  plays  at  buying  and  selling, 
building  and  visiting,  he  knows  that  these  same 
qualities  will  come  out  in  the  real  work  of  life, 
and  will  unfit  their  possessor  for  the  best  work, 
and  prevent  him  from  honorable  and  generous 
conduct,  and  all  the  highest  functions  and  duties 
of  life.  So  our  Lord,  observant  of  the  disposi- 
tions we  are  showing  as  we  deal  with  the  shadowy 
objects  and  passing  events  of  this  seeming  sub- 
stantial world,  marks  us  off  as  fit  or  unfit  to  be 
entrusted  with  what  is  real  and  abiding.  If  this 
man  shows  such  greed  for  the  gold  he  knows  he 
must  in  a  few  years  leave,  will  he  not  show  a 
keener,  intenser  selfishness  in  regard  to  what  is 
abiding?  If  he  can  trample  on  other  people's 
rights  for  the  sake  of  a  pound  or  two,  how  can  he 
be  trusted  to  deal  with  what  is  infinitely  more 
valuable  ?  If  here  in  a  world  where  mistakes  are 
not  final,  and  which  is  destined  to  be  burned  up 
with  all  the  traces  of  evil  that  are  in  it, — if  in  a 
world  which,  after  all,  is  a  mere  card-house,  or  in 
which  we  are  apprentices  learning  the  use  of  our 
tools,  and  busy  with  work  which,  if  we  spoil,  we 
do  no  irreparable  harm, — if  here  we  display  in- 
corrigible negligence  and  incapacity  to  keep  a 
high  aim  and  a  good  model  before  us,  who  would 
be  so  foolish  as  to  let  us  loose  among  eternal 


THE   UNJUST   STEWARD.  379 

matters,  things  of  abiding  importance,  and  in 
which  mistake  and  carelessness  and  infidelity  are 
irreparable  ? 

^'  And  if  ye  have  not  been  faithful  in  that  which 
is  another  man's,  who  shall  give  you  that  which 
is  your  own?"  A  merchant  sees  among  his 
clerks  one  whose  look  and  bearing  are  prepossess- 
ing, and  he  thinks  that  by  and  by  this  lad  might 
possibly  make  a  good  partner ;  he  watches  him, 
but  he  finds  him  gradually  degenerating  into  slip- 
shod ways  of  doing  his  work,  coming  down  late 
in  the  mornings,  and  showing  no  zeal  for  the 
growth  of  the  business,  and  so  the  thought  grows 
in  his  mind,  *'  If  he  is  not  faithful  in  that  which 
is  another  man's,  how  can  I  give  him  the  business 
as  his  own?"  I  can't  hand  over  my  business  to 
one  who  will  squander  what  I  have  spent  my  life 
in  accumulating ;  to  one  who  has  not  sufficient 
liking  for  work  to  give  himself  heartily  to  it,  or 
sufficient  sense  of  honor  to  do  it  heartily  whether 
he  likes  it  or  no.  Much  as  I  should  like  to  lift 
him  out  of  a  subordinate  situation,  I  cannot  do 
so.  Thus  are  determined  the  commercial  and 
social  prospects  of  many  an  unconscious  youth, 
and  thus  are  determined  the  eternal  prospects  of 
many  a  heedless  servant  of  God,  who  little  thinks 
that  the  Master's  eye  is  upon  him,  and  that  by 
hasting  to  be  rich  he  is  making  himself  eternally 
poor,  and  by  slackness  in  God's  service  is  ruining 
his  own  future. 


DIVES  AND  LAZARUS. 

LuKEXvi.  19-31. 

The  Parable  of  the  Unjust  Steward  was  spoken 
for  the  purpose  of  encouraging  rich  men  to 
make  a  right  use  of  their  wealth,  as  well  as  for 
the  sake  of  reminding  all  Christians  that  the 
qualities  which  give  success  in  the  world  and 
constitute  practical  wisdom  are  very  much  re- 
quired in  the  kingdon  of  God.  But  the  Phari- 
sees, who  were  rich,  and  who  under  a  show  of 
godliness  and  piety  kept  a  very  firm  hold  on 
their  money,  laughed  at  the  novel  investment 
which  our  Lord  proposed. 

In  our  day  the  views  of  Christ  regarding  the 
distribution  of  wealth  are  seriously  discussed  by 
political  economists,  and  no  one  ventures  to  de- 
ride His  suggestion.  There  are  still,  however, 
double-dyed  Pharisees,  who  with  decorous  so- 
lemnity and  without  a  shadow  of  a  smile  listen 
to  our  Lord's  recommendations,  but  listen  also 
without  the  slightest  intention  of  allowing  them 
any  practical  force,  without  one  thought  of  giv- 
ing them  effect  in  their  own  life.  The  Pharisee 
who  smiled  incredulously  in  our  Lord's  face,  and 
expressed  pity  for  His  ignorance  of  the  world, 
380 


DIVES   AND    LAZARUS.  38 1 

was  no  match  for  our  modern  Pharisee,  who  can 
persuade  himself  he  gives  our  Lord  a  reverent 
hearing  though  he  does  not  dream  of  obeying 
Him. 

The  satirical  and  mocking  observations  which 
began  to  fly  round  the  crowd  when  the  former 
Parable  was  closed,  induced  our  Lord  to  expose 
still  more  plainly  the  folly  of  the  Pharisees  and 
rich  men.  They  lived  in  the  comfortable  creed 
that  wealth  was  a  manifest  sign,  if  not  the  man-  j 
ifest  sign,  of  God's  favor,  while  disease  and 
poverty  were  the  results  of  sin  either  in  the 
sufferer  or  in  his  parents,  a  creed  which  had  just 
truth  enough  in  it  to  give  it  life  and  make  it 
pernicious.  They  believed  that  the  man  who 
was  wealthy  here  would  be  wealthy  in  the  world 
to  come,  and  that  God  could  not  but  esteem 
that  which  commanded  the  admiration  of  the 
well-washed  and  decorous  Pharisee.  They  had, 
to  their  own  perfect  satisfaction,  reconciled  the 
love  of  God  and  the  love  of  money.  They 
laughed  at  our  Lord,  therefore,  when  He  told 
them  that  God  and  mammon  were  irreconcile- 
able,  and  that  to  be  rich  and  honored  in  this 
world  was  no  sign  whatever  of  riches  and  honor 
in  the  world  to  come.  Our  Lord,  therefore, 
argues  no  further  with  them,  but  draws  aside 
for  a  moment  the  curtain  that  hides  the  world 
of  spirits  and  discloses  to  their  view  the  after 
history  of  two  men,  one  of  whom  had  been  opu- 


382  THE  PARABLES  OF   OUR  LORD. 

lent  and  powerful,  the  other  nothing.  He  shows 
them  what  becomes  of  many  highly  respectable 
citizens,  and  what  is  frequently  the  result  of  the 
kind  of  life  they  chiefly  admired.  He  takes 
them  into  the  unseen  world  and  gives  them  to 
understand  that — 

"  Many  there  be  who  fill  the  highest  place, 
Kings  upon  earth,  who  here  like  swine  shall  bide, 
Leaving  but  scorn  and  horror  in  their  trace." 

The  first  figure  our  Lord  sets  before  us  in  the 
Parable  is  intended  as  a  mirror  to  the  Pharisees. 
He  is  not  intended  to  be  depicted  as  a  monstrous 
specimen  of  humanity  or  luxurious  living.  We 
do  not  read  that  his  wealth  had  been  unright- 
eously acquired.  No  doubtful  speculations,  no 
far  too  clever  financing,  no  transactions  generally 
condemned,  are  charged  against  him.  He  was 
simply  a  rich  man,  who  had  made  his  money  in  the 
usual  way.  Neither  was  he  a  miser  who  could 
not  bear  to  spend  what  he  had  made ;  on  the 
contrary,  he  liked  to  see  his  friends  enjoying 
themselves  at  his  expense.  Had  he  been  notori- 
ously selfish  and  uncharitable,  his  gate  would  never 
have  been  chosen  as  the  asylum  of  the  beggar. 
Indeed,  this  circumstance,  that  Lazarus  was  day 
after  day  laid  there,  points  rather  to  a  character 
for  such  Pharisaic  almsgiving  as  would  maintain 
his  reputation  as  an  observer  of  the  law ;  for 
those   who   were   careful   enough   to    carry    the 


DIVES  AND   LAZARUS.  383 

beggar  out  in  the  morning  would  certainly  set 
him  where  he  would  be  pretty  sure  of  being  fed. 
The  rich  man  did  not  refuse  to  have  so  loath- 
some an  object  at  his  gate,  did  not  refuse  to 
have  his  pleasure  somewhat  spoilt  by  the  sicken- 
ing sight,  did  not  order  his  servants  to  drive  the 
disgusting  creature  off  his  doorstep.  Neither  is 
it  said  that  the  man  was  a  sensualist,  curious  in 
sauces  and  wines,  knowing  how  everything  should 
be  cooked  and  in  what  season  and  with  what 
relish  it  should  be  eaten.  Not  at  all :  he  had 
money  and  liked  to  live  pleasantly  and  brightly. 
He  wore  good  clothes;  not  tissue  of  silver  like 
Herod,  nor  anything  that  made  him  stared  at  in 
the  streets,  but  merely,  like  fifty  other  rich  men 
in  his  town,  good  linen  next  his  skin  and  seemly 
purple  over  it.  It  is,  in  short,  to  his  condition 
and  not  to  his  character  our  attention  is  in  the 
first  place  directed.  His  character  is  shown  by 
and  by  ;  but  if  we  would  receive  the  Parable  in 
its  full  force,  we  must  not  anticipate  its  conclusion, 
but  suffer  ourselves  to  be  led  to  it  step  by  step. 
And  this  first  step  is  to  set  before  us  a  man  sur- 
rounded by  all  the  comforts  of  life  and  enjoying 
them  to  the  full. 

In  striking  contrast  to  this  afifluent.  easy,  bril- 
liant life  is  set  the  other  extreme  of  the  human  con- 
dition. And  here,  too,  nothing  as  yet  is  said  of 
the  character  of  Lazarus  ;  it  is  only  intended  to 
paint  vividly   external  circumstances  as  squalid, 


384  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

disgusting,  and  pitiable,  as  those  of  the  rich 
Pharisee  were  enviable  and  glittering.  While  the 
gaily  appareled  guests  throng  into  the  mansion, 
while  the  sounds  of  mirth  and  dancing  attract  the 
passers-by,  and  the  brilliant  lights  shed  a  radiance 
over  all  within,  Lazarus  lies  through  the  weary 
hours  in  the  outer  darkness  under  the  sweeping, 
chilling  rain,  waiting  for  the  scraps  that  the  hun- 
griest slave  casts  out.  Within,  the  Pharisee  is  re- 
ceiving the  flatteries  of  a  hundred  of  his  clients,  and 
is  wrapped  round  with  all  that  nurses  self-compla- 
cency ;  at  his  gate  lies  a  helpless  heap,  a  distorted 
wreck  of  a  man  that  the  dogs  mistake  for  a  carcass 
thrown  out  to  them,  and  that  men  hurry  past 
with  a  shudder.  It  is  a  contrast  such  as  our  own 
streets  continually  present,  and  if  anything  you 
have  yourselves  seen  of  the  extremes  of  comfort 
and  discomfort  can  add  another  touch  to  this 
picture,  you  are  welcome  to  see  remembered  real- 
ity shining  through  the  Parable. 

There  are  some  pictures  so  constructed  that 
when  the  spectator  is  thoroughly  impressed  with 
the  scene  before  him,  a  spring  is  touched,  the  picture 
turns  on  a  pivot  and  exposes  on  its  reverse  side 
that  which  completes  the  intended  impression. 
This  picture  is  constructed  on  similar  principles. 
The  festive  Pharisee  and  the  diseased  beggar  fill- 
ing the  eye,  the  picture  is  in  a  moment  reversed, 
and  the  Pharisee  is  seen  dropped  out  of  all  com- 
fort   and  affluence,  craving  a  drop  of  water  as  a 


DIVES  AND   LAZARUS.  385 

boon  he  has  no  means  of  procuring,  while  Lazarus 
is  lifted  to  the  pinnacle  of  human  sufficiency  and 
glorified  above  all  earthly  magnificence.  There  is 
something  intentionally  horrifying  in  the  sudden- 
ness of  the  contrast.  Fresh  from  his  luxurious 
ease,  Dives  is  in  torments  ;  quicker  than  a  troop 
of  bandits  strip  a  traveler,  is  he  stripped  of  all  the 
inexhaustible  equipment  for  comfortable  living 
which  had  characterized  him  in  life.  In  the 
suddenness,  completeness,  and  terror  of  the  con- 
trast, it  is  comparable  to  that  which  passes  under 
a  brilliant  southern  sky  where  nature  has  been 
prodigal  of  her  beauties,  when  there  is  but  one 
moment's  murmur,  and  the  earth  opens,  pours 
out  its  flood  of  fire,  and  the  fruitful  land  lies 
a  scorched  and  sterile  waste. 

It  need  scarcely  be  said  that  this  is  merely  a 
pictorial  or  figurative  representation.  Disem- 
bodied spirits  have  not  eyes,  fingers,  tongues, 
voices.  But  the  impression  conveyed  to  the 
reader  is  strictly  true,  that  a  man's  condition  in 
this  life  may  be  reversed  in  the  world  to  come. 
The  truth  our  Lord  desired  in  the  first  place  to  > 
enforce  was,  that  what  is  highly  esteemed  among 
men  is  abomination  in  the  sight  of  God — that 
while  men  hurry  past  Lazarus  with  sickening  re-' 
vulsion  and  seek  the  company  of  the  luxurious 
Dives  in  his  well-appointed  house,  it  is  from  Dives 
that  God  turns  with  loathing.  This  is  not  at  once 
made  apparent,  but  in  the  ordinary  course  cf  things 
25 


385  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

this  judgment  of  God  finds  its  counterpart  in 
actual  events  and  circumstances.  And  it  is  a  pity 
that  we  should  be  so  little  able  to  enter  into  and 
sympathize  with  God's  judgments ;  that  our  ad- 
miration should  be  so  much  spent  upon  rank,  ta- 
lent, wealth,  success  and  prosperity.  The  man  who 
invents  a  machine  or  makes  a  discovery  which  will 
facilitate  business  operations  or  add  to  the  con- 
veniences of  life  is  at  once  raised  to  a  pinnacle  of 
fame  ;  the  author  of  a  brilliant  novel  or  the  leader 
of  a  political  party  can  scarcely  make  his  way 
through  applauding  crowds.  And  it  seems  un- 
gracious to  turn  the  other  side  of  the  picture, 
and  show  their  rank  and  place  in  a  world  where 
rank  and  place  are  determined  solely  by  character. 
Yet  the  fact  is  that  all  things  that  make  the 
greatest  show  in  the  world,  wealth  and  power  and 
genius,  are  the  mere  instruments  with  which  char- 
acter works,  and  are  useful  or  hurtful  according 
as  the  motive  that  wields  them  is  good  or  evil. 
Let  us  learn  then  to  esteem  character,  that  it  may 
noTbe  said  of  us  also,  that  what  is  highly  esteemed 
by  us  is  abomination  in  God's  sight.  It  is  of  the 
essence  of  Pharisaism  to  be  deceived  by  appear- 
ances, to  have  its  judgment  arrested  on  the  out- 
side and  the  surface,  to  be  satisfied  if  the  manners 
are  good  and  the  outward  conduct  respectable. 
It  is  weak  and  Pharisaic  to  be  taken  in  by  what 
is  not  of  the  essence  of  the  man,  and  may  be 
changed  with  circum.stances,  and  must  be  left  be* 


DIVES   AND    LAZARUS.  38/ 

hind  at  death.  And  it  is  this  way  of  judging  by 
the  outsides  and  accidents  of  things,  that  prepares 
those  tremendous  reversals  of  human  judgment 
exemplified  in  the  Parable.  If  men  were  now 
grouped  and  ranked  according  to  their  spiritual 
and  moral  qualities,  how  often  would  rags  take 
precedence  of  purple,  and  the  outcast  from  under 
the  hedge  be  counted  more  valuable  for  all  eternal 
purposes  than  the  well-housed  and  respectable 
citizen. 

On  the  other  hand,  when  tempted  to  murmur 
at  the  rougher  portions  of  your  lot,  when  you 
begin  to  look  upon  your  misfortunes  as  punish- 
ment driving  you  from  God,  when  you  sufTer 
your  outward  circumstances  to  regulate  your 
inward  peace,  and  find  it  hard  to  believe  in  the 
love  of  God  when  it  sends  you  no  better  physicians 
than  dogs,  no  ampler  provision  than  crumbs  from 
a  rich  man's  table,  remember  Lazarus,  and  learn 
that  the  outward  circumstances  of  this  life  is  no 
index  by  which  you  may  read  the  relation  you 
hold  to  God  ;  that  you  may  have  one  value  in  this 
world,  another  in  the  world  to  come ;  that  here 
outward  circumstances  are  the  training  of  saints, 
there  the  unmistakable  indication  of  the  spiritual 
condition,  sinners  there  being  the  only  sufferers. 

If  the  Parable,  however,  merely  exhibited  the 
sudden  and  shocking  reversal  of  human  judg- 
ments and  alteration  of  human  conditions,  it  might 
be  open  to  the  charge  often  brought  against  it. 


388  THE   PARABLES    OF    OUR    LORD. 

that  it  Is  a  mere  condemnation  of  wealthy  men  as 
wealthy  and  a  defense  of  poverty.  But  the  Par- 
able at  once  proceeds  to  show  on  what  the  revers- 
al of  human  judgment  is  founded — it  goes  on  to 
show  what  the  character  of  the  rich  man  had  been, 
what  was  the  moral  element  and  principle  which 
ran  through  and  determined  his  life  upon  earth. 
''  Son,  remember,"  says  Abraham  to  him,  "  re- 
member that  thou  in  thy  lifetime  receivedst  thy 
good  things,  and  likewise  Lazarus  evil  things." 
That  is  to  say,  if  you  desired  equality  with  Lazarus 
in  this  world  of  spirits,  you  should  have  laid  the 
foundation  for  it  in  giving  him  equality  with  you 
in  your  lifetime.  Had  you  made  friends  with  the 
unrighteous  mammon  which  you  so  abundantly 
possessed,  you  would  have  been  anxiously  ex- 
pected and  welcomed  by  Lazarus  and  all  those 
you  blessed.  Had  you  used  your  wealth  as  God's 
steward  for  the  use  of  God's  suffering  creatures, 
you  would  now  be  enjoying  pleasures  greater  than 
ever  you  experienced  on  earth.  You  beg  for  the 
friendship  of  Lazarus  now,  and  entreat  his  kindly 
offices  ;  but  you  had  the  means  of  making  him 
your  friend  while  on  earth.  He  is  now  beyond 
reach  of  your  good  things  and  friendship,  and 
you  are  beyond  reach  of  his.  It  is  you  yourself 
who  allowed  the  contrast  between  you  and  Laz- 
arus to  abide,  and  it  does  abide.  "  Remember," 
look  back  on  your  earthly  life,  reflect  upon  its  op- 
portunities and  the  way  you  used  them,  and  you 


DIVES   AND    LAZARUS.  389 

will  understand  the  origin  and  the  justice  of  your 
present  condition  ;  you  will  recognize  that  it  is 
yourself  who  have  fixed  this  yawning  chasm  be- 
tween you  and  all  permanent  joy.  You  did  not 
bridge  the  chasm  between  you  in  life — you  did 
not  leave  your  splendor  to  sit  by  his  side,  to  hold 
his  racking,  weary  head,  to  drive  off  the  dogs  and 
make  him  feel  that  at  least  in  one  human  breast 
he  had  an  asylum — you  did  not  even  send  your  serv- 
ants to  bring  him  in  to  an  outhouse  to  lie  among 
your  cattle — you  had  everything  that  he  needed 
and  you  left  him  in  his  need — you  did  not  inquire 
into  his  necessities,  nor  penetrate  through  the 
rags  and  stench  and  poverty  to  the  humanity 
they  encased — you  did  not  own  him  as  a  brother, 
and  in  anticipation  of  his  lying  in  Abraham's 
bosom  at  the  banquet  of  eternal  bliss,  take  him  in 
to  yourself — you  stood  aloof  and  separated  yourself 
from  him,  and  that  separation  abides.  Had  you 
shared  wnth  him  on  earth,  you  would  have  shared 
with  him  now. 

This  is  no  doubt  a  pretty  hard  lesson  to  learn. 
And  I  believe  those  will  feel  its  hardness  most 
who  have  most  desire  to  learn  it  ;  who  have  can. 
dor  enough  and  integrity  of  purpose  enough 
to  look  straight  at  our  Lord  as  He  utters  this 
counsel,  and  to  feel  that  if  they  are  to  maintain  a 
conscience  void  of  offense  they  must  be  clear  in 
their  own  minds  as  to  the  use  they  make  of 
money   and    advantages.     It    is    startling,  too,  to 


390  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

find  that  the  destiny  of  Dives  was  determined  by 

L^    '     his  conduct  towards  this  one  poor  man  ;  Httle  as 

■^        ^*-^e  thought  of  him,  it  was  this  powerless  creature 

\^&^  who  could  not  even  crawl  into  his  path  and  force 

j^^^        attention,  who  was   exercising  a  more  determin- 

f^Kf»r        ing  influence  on  his  future  than  any  of  those  who 

-%  '^\    f^     thronged    his   banqueting    rooms   and    discussed 

Jx^'^       '     with  him  all  his  plans  and  new  devices  of  money- 

..0j-'     making  or  money-spending.     What  one  person  is 

h'^       frit  who  holds  this  relation  to  our  life  ;  perhaps  as 

ijC^^       little  thought  of  by  us  as    Lazarus  by  Dives,  and 

vvJJ^'^  yet  truly  determining  what  we  are  to  be  and  to 

(J^  have   in    eternity  ?     The  man    whose  wants   you 

relieve    sullenly,   almost  angrily  ;  the  man  whose 

too  frequently   recurring    necessities   you    resent 

and  spurn  ;  the   person  who    crossed  your  path 

when  you   were    too    much  occupied  with  your 

own   joys   to    observe   his  face    of  starvation  or 

disease  ;   such   persons,    and    they    whose  claims 

you  now    refuse   to    look   at  for  a  moment,  are 

determining  your  eternal  condition. 

But  "  beside  all  this  " — the  thing  you  ask  is 
impossible.  It  is,  in  the  first  place,  jusf  that 
there  should  be  this  reversal  of  your  condition  ; 
but  supposing  that  Lazarus  were  willing  to  for- 
get the  long  wretched  hours  he  spent  at  your 
gate,  or  supposing  that  his  experience  of  pain 
made  him  sensitive  to  yours  and  anxious  to  re- 
lieve it,  the  thing  cannot  be  done.  This  too  is 
an  essential  part  of  the  Parable.     The  results  pro. 


DIVES   AND   LAZARUS.  39 1 

duced  by  character  and  a  life-long  habit  cannot  , 
be  expunged  in  the  easy  way  suggested  by 
Dives.  The  consequences  of  a  selfish  life  of  pleas- 
ure cannot  be  reversed  as  soon  as  they  begin  to 
be  uncomfortable  and  distressing.  If  you  take 
the  wrong  turning  at  the  entrance  to  a  mountain 
pass,  you  may  emerge  very  near  your  friend  who 
has  taken  the  right  one,  but  with  a  yawning  gulf 
between  that  no  human  agility  can  leap — the 
only  way  is  to  go  right  back  and  follow  the  path 
he  has  taken,  and  if  it  is  too  late  to  go  back,  if 
the  night  has  fallen  and  the  mist  closed  in  around 
you,  no  beseeching  of  the  inexorable  hills  will  re- 
pair your  error.  So  a  life  of  easy  careless  selfish^ 
ness  leads  to  a  moral  condition,  a  state  of  heart 
and  of  lot,  from  which  no  sudden  leap  can  bring 
a  man  into  the  company  and  condition  of  those 
who  have  passed  through  long  years  of  purifying 
pain  and  patient  endurance  that  have  tested  every 
fiber  of  their  character.  -^ 

It  is  a  grave  charge  indeed  that  we  are  each  of 
us  entrusted  with — to  determine  for  ourselves 
the  eternity  in  which  we  are  to  live.  And  are 
we  to  expect  that  this  can  be  well  done  without 
thought,  care,  conflict,  all  that  can  prove  us  men 
and  bring  out  our  manhood  ?  Does  any  one 
resent  being  called  upon  to  be  in  earnest  and  to 
make  this  life  an  ideal  and  a  noble  life  for  him- 
self ?  Does  any  one  object  to  this  life  being  a 
real  trial  of  men,  fitted  to  determine  and  actually 


392  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

determining  what  they  really  are  ? — Surely  no 
right-minded  person  would  shrink  from  a  test 
that  is  real,  that  goes  deep  enough  to  search  the 
very  roots  of  evil  and  of  good  in  us. 

One  would  naturally  expect  that  the  Parable 
would  close  at  this  point.  The  doom  of  the 
selfish  pleasure-seeker,  of  the  man  who  does  not 
use  the  means  in  his  power  to  help  the  needy, 
has  been  clearly  shown.  It  has  been  shown  that 
if  Pharisees  on  earth  deride  the  proposal  to  serve 
God  only  and  not  mammon  at  all,  the  Pharisee 
who  has  left  earth  is  in  no  laughing  mood,  is 
convinced  of  the  justice  of  his  doom  and  the 
impossibility  of  relief.  And  one  would  suppose 
this  left  no  more  to  be  said.  But  if  no  more 
had  been  said,  the  Pharisees,  ever  ready  to  justify 
themselves,  would  have  said  :  Tliis  js  a  mere  fancy 
sketch,  spoken  under  provocation  for  the  sake  of 
alarming  us.  If  things  were  as  He  represents 
them  to  be,  some  courteous  ghost  would  blab  it 
out — we  should  not  be  left  by  our  father  Abra- 
ham to  glide  on  to  such  a  doom,  unstayed  and 
unwarned.  Anticipating  such  evasions,  our  Lord 
appends  the  pathetic  supplication  of  Dives  :  "  If 
/  am  past  redemption,  save  my  brethren ;  if  no 
relief  can  reach  me  in  this  place  of  torment,  hinder 
them  from  a  similar  doom."  And  this  request  is 
introduced  merely  for  the  sake  of  bringing  out 
that  already  all  needed  warning  is  given,  and  that 
the  proposed  additional  warning  would  have  no 


DIVES   AND    LAZARUS.  393 

^ect  whatever — that  is  to  say,  the  Pharisees  are 
without  excuse  if  they  continue  their  attempts 
to  make  the  best  of  both  worlds. 

The  statement  of  the  Parable,  however,  to  the 
effect  that  those  who  disregard  Moses  and  the 
Prophets  would  equally  disregard  the  appearance 
of  a  dead  friend,  is  one  which  at  first  seems  open 
to  question.  Who  has  not  often  longed  to  lift 
the  veil  and  see  for  a  little  the  actual  condition 
of  the  dead  ?  Who  has  not  felt  as  if  it  would  be 
so  much  easier  to  believe  if  we  could  but  for  one 
hour  see  ?  Who  has  not  been  ready  to  say  with 
these  Pharisees  :  Why  not  end  all  this  doubt,  all 
this  plague  of  skepticism,  all  this  brutality  and 
worldliness,  by  sending  back  from  among  the  dead 
some  messengers  who  might  be  identified,  and 
who  might  plainly  tell  us  what  they  know,  and 
allow  us  to  cross-examine  them  ?  Could  they  be 
better  employed  ?  And  if  faith  is  so  desirable, 
why_is_not_  everything  done  that  can  be  done  to 
give  us  faith  ?  If  there  is  a  spiritual  world  in 
which  it  is  so  important  that  we  believe,  why  are 
we  not  put  in  direct  communication  with  it  so  that 
it  would  become  as  real  to  us  as  France  or  China 
or  any  country  of  whose  existence  we  have  no 
doubt,  although  we  have  never  seen  it?  Is  it 
possible  that  this  world  and  a  world  so  utterly 
different  can  be  in  so  close  a  connection,  as  if 
separated  only  by  a  paper  screen  through  which 
a  man   may  any  moment   fall,  and  that  yet  we 


394  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

should  so  little  know  what  passes  in  that  world  ? 
Is  it  possible  that  that  world  can  be  filled  with 
friends  of  our  own,  and  yet  not  one  of  them  whis- 
pers us  a  single  word,  no  more  than  if  there  were 
no  such  world  at  all?  Is  it  possible  that  men 
who  are  to-day  fully  occupied  with  this  world, 
following  its  fashion  and  leaving  the  world  of  ret- 
ribution to  sober,  religious  people,  may  to-morrow 
find  themselves  in  that  world  ?  And  if  so,  why 
does  not  nature  herself  cry  out  to  warn  us  from 
our  ruin  ?  Why  do  not  the  spirits  of  the  dead 
return  and  command  us  to  hold  back? 

Such  feelings  are  natural,  but  they  are  mis- 
leading. The  rich  man's  brethren  were  heedless 
of  the  unseen  world,  not  because  they  did  not 
believe  that  any  future  state  awaited  them,  but 
because  this  world's  pleasures  absorbed  their  in- 
terest.  It  was  a  profound  moral  change  they 
needed,  and  for  effecting  such  a  change,  ''  Moses 
and  the  Prophets,"  the  continuous  revelation  of 
God  and  His  holiness  in  the  past,  was  a  much 
more  powerful  and  appropriate  instrument  than 
an  apparition.  By  such  a  messenger  from  the 
dead  as  the  rich  man  proposed — supposing  his 
message  could  be  authenticated — our  ideas  of 
what  lies  beyond  the  veil  might  be  altered,  and 
fear  might  lead  us  to  adapt  our  conduct  to  the 
revealed  future  ;  but  could  our  character  be  thus 
changed  ?  No  revelation  of  punishment  awaiting 
the  evil-doer  could  avail  to  make  us  different  in 


DIVES   AND    LAZARUS.  395 

heart,  or  could  unfix  our  real  inward  affections 
from  sensual  and  worldly  objects,  and  fix  them 
upon  God  and  what  is  spiritual  and  holy.  Only 
the  revelation  to  our  own  souls  of  the  beauty  of 
holiness,  only  the  revelation  of  God,  in  the  fullest 
sense  of  these  words,  can  teach  us  to  fix  our 
hearts  unalterably  on  God  and  all  that  lives  with 
Him  and  in  Him.  Only  by  seeing  and  knowing 
Him  can  we  learn  to  love  Him  ;  and  only  by 
loving  Him  are  we  perfected  as  men. 

It  is  doubtful  if  even  the  information  given  by 
such  a  messenger — apart  altogether  from  the  ef- 
fects such  information  might  produce — would  be 
of  much  value,  or  would  be  permanently  accepted 
as  valid.  It  is  true,  many  in  our  own  day  are  per- 
suaded that  they  receive  the  most  assured  knowl- 
edge of  the  unseen  world  by  holding  direct  com- 
munication with  those  who  have  entered  it,  and 
I  would  be  slow  to  deny  the  possibility  or  actual- 
ity of  all  such  communication  ;  but  as  yet  this 
method  of  discovering  the  unseen  has  merely 
shown  how  constant  a  craving  for  such  knowledge 
exists  in  men,  rather  than  that  much  assured  and 
wholesome  truth  has  been  reached  by  it.  He  was 
more  deeply  instructed  who  rather  shrank  from 
any  such  reappearances  of  the  dead,  and  anticipated 
the  fruitlessness  of  any  such  comfort : 

"  If  any  vision  should  reveal 

Thy  likeness,  I  might  count  in  vain, 
As  but  the  canker  of  the  brain  ; 
Yea,  though  it  spake  and  made  appeal 


396  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

To  chances  where  our  lots  were  cast 

Together  in  the  days  behind, 

I  might  but  say,  I  hear  a  wind 
Or  memory  murmuring  the  past." 

It  is  not  in  that  direction  we  need  look  for 
relief  from  our  skepticism  with  all  its  unrest, 
vacillation,  and  brooding  sadness.  But  does  not 
God  everywhere  elude  observation  ?  Is  God  not 
unwilling  that  we  should  know  Him?  Does  He 
not  hide  Himself?  Are  not  clouds  and  dark- 
ness impenetrable  round  about  Him?  Not  so. 
God  seeks  to  make  Himself  known  to  you.  He 
wishes  to  bring  as  much  light  as  possible  into 
your  mind,  and  has  used  the  best  means  of 
introducing  that  light.  Why  then  do  so  many 
earnest  men  spend  their  years  in  a  vain  search 
for  God  ?  Why  have  so  many  most  thoughtful 
and  inquiring  men  missed  the  light  they  have  all 
their  days  been  looking  for,  and  without  which 
they  have  no  joy  in  life?  Partly,  perhaps  chiefly, 
because,  like  the  rich  man,  each  inquirer  prefers 
some  self-devised  method  of  revelation  to  the 
method  God  has  actually  adopted.  To  those  who 
understand  that  God  is  the  One  Living  Spirit,  all 
things  reveal  Him,  He  besets  them  behind  and 
before,  and  though  they  should  be  oppressed  by 
the  presence  and  flee  from  it,  God  awaits  them  in 
their  place  of  flight  and  they  cannot  escape  Him. 
The  intelligence  discernible  in  all  things,  in  their 
harmony  and  unity,  in  their  universal  subservience 


DIVES  AND   LAZARUS.  397 

of  one  plan  and  contribution  to  progress — this  is 
God.  The  holy  love  that  is  discernible  in  the  law 
that  governs  human  affairs — this  is  God.  More 
discernible  is  this  law  in  Jewish  history  than  else- 
where, because  the  Jews  awaited  its  working,  and 
observed  and  recorded  it,  while  other  races  mis- 
took what  they  had  to  deal  with.  But  if  men 
look  for  a  God  that  is  not  or  where  He  is 
not,  they  cannot  find  Him.  If  they  will  not 
look  at  things  as  they  actually  are ;  if  they  will 
not  consider  what  Moses  and  the  Prophets  teach  ; 
if  they  will  not  recognize  the  unseen  Spirit 
that  trained  and  guided  and  made  Himself  felt 
by  Israel ;  if  they  shut  their  eyes  to  the  embodi- 
ment of  that  Spirit  in  Christ,  and  to  His  work- 
ing since  in  millions  of  our  race  ;  if,  that  is  to 
say,  they  exclude  all  that  is  most  significant  in 
human  history,  can  we  expect  anything  else  than 
that  the  search  for  God  elsewhere  will  be  fruit- 
less and  disappointing?  If  we  find  God  at  all, 
we  must  find  Him  not  spectrally  separate  from  all 
known  realities,  but  in  and  through  all  things  that 
are,  and  especially  in  and  through  human  history 
and  our  own  souls. 

Through  all  these  things  God  reveals  Himself 
to  us,  as  to  moral  and  reasonable  creatures,  who 
can  be  more  profoundly  influenced  by  appeals 
to  conscience  and  reason  than  by  startling  and 
abnormal  apparitions.  And  if  from  these  things 
we  can  learn  nothing  about  God  and  our  duty  to 


398  THE  PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

Him,  still  less  are  we  likely  to  learn  from  necro- 
mancy. Conscience  lies  deeper  in  us  and  is  a  more 
essential  organ  than  the  eye,  and  if  conscience 
responds  to  all  that  Moses  and  the  Prophets,  com- 
pleted and  interpreted  by  Christ,  tell  us  about 
God,  this  is  an  infinitely  worthier  testimony  to 
His  existence  and  His  truth  than  if  an  unsubstan- 
tial shade  hovered  before  the  eye,  and  in  some 
hollow,  sepulchral  mutterings,  warned  us  of  the 
results  of  unbelief.  If  your  faith  is  weak,  do  not 
wait  for  unusual  manifestations  or  novel  proofs  of 
things  unseen,  but  use  the  means  of  knowing  God 
which  others  have  found  sufificient,  and  which 
God  has  actually  furnished.  Keep  your  mind 
saturated  with  the  teachings  and  life  of  Christ, 
and  what  your  conscience  responds  to,  see  that  you 
act  upon.  For  if  the  humble  and  loving  tone  of 
the  morality  you  find  there  enters  into  your  blood, 
the  eyes  of  your  understanding  will  become 
brighter  to  discern  spiritual  things.  Begin  at  the 
right  end,  and  with  what  is  already  within  your 
reach.  Begin  with  what  you  know  to  be  true,  that 
is,  with  what  your  conscience  accepts.  Begin  with 
obedience,  with  gratefully  accepting  a  light 
upon  duty  and  upon  your  relation  to  the  per- 
sons and  things  around  you  which  you  cannot 
but  own  to  be  the  truest  and  best,  and  by  fol- 
lowing this  light  you  will  at  length  reach  an 
atmosphere  in  which  things  will  assume  their 
right  and  true  proportions.     Thus  will  you  earn 


DIVES  AND   LAZARUS.  399 

the  reward  of  humility  and  truthfulness  of  spirit, 
not  outrunning  your  actual  faith,  but  not  lag- 
ging behind  conscience ;  thus  will  you  learn  the 
truth  of  the  Lord's  own  words  :  *'  If  any  man  do 
the  will  of  God,  he  shall  know  of  the  doctrine 
whether  it  be  of  God."  The  pure  in  heart  shall 
see  God ;  if  not  now,  then  hereafter. 


THE  UNJUST  JUDGE. 

Luke  xviii.  i-8,  and  Luke  xi.  5-13. 

The  two  Parables  of  the  Importunate  Friend 
at  midnight  and  the  Importunate  Widow  illus- 
trate the  same  idea,  that  importunity  prevails 
irrespective  of  the  character  or  disposition  of  the 
person  on  whom  it  is  practised.  Alike  in  this, 
the  Parables  differ  inasmuch  as  the  one  has  a 
genera],  the  other  a  special  reference.  The  suc- 
cessful importunity  of  the  midnight  petitioner  is 
a  sample  of  the  success  that  attends  all  persever- 
ing prayer.  The  widow's  conquest  of  the  surly 
judge  is  intended  to  encourage  the  disciples  of 
Christ  to  the  persi^stent  expectation  of  His  second 
coming,  and  to  unwearied  prayer  for  that  good 
time  when  all  their  desires  shall  be  fulfilled.  All 
prayer  is  trying  to  the  character,  and  few  per- 
sons there  are  who  can  perseveringly  offer  the 
"  effectual  fervent  "  prayer  which  avails  :  but  there 
is  special  temptation  to  faint  in  prayer  for  the 
coming  of  the  Son  of  man.  Wrongs  are  so  slowly 
righted  ;  wisdom,  justice,  and  righteousness  make 
such  little  way  upon  earth  ;  misery  and  wicked- 
ness renew  themselves  with  a  vigor  so  unabated, 
that  the  most  sanguine  are  often  tempted  to  refer 
400 


THE   UNJUST  JUDGE.  4OI 

this  to  indifference  on  the  part  of  Him  who  reigns 
and  has  all  power.  It  is  not  easy  to  reconcile  the 
meagre,  unsatisfactory  results  of  Christianity  in 
the  world  with  the  claims  and  promises  of  Christ, 
and  under  the  pressure  of  this  difficulty  many 
cease  to  hope  and  pray  and  sink  into  a  bewildered 
or  quite  unbelieving  habit. 

These  Parables,  then,  are  meant  to  afford  us 
effectual  encouragement  in  prayer.  Those  who 
first  faint  in  prayer  and  then  cease  to  pray  com- 
monly do  so  from  some  kind  of  latent  feeling  that 
God  does  not  regard  them.  Well,  says  our  Lord, 
even  supposing  He  does  not  regard  you,  do  not 
give  up  asking,  for  even  in  the  most  unpromising 
circumstances  persevering  and  importunate  en- 
treaty gets  what  it  seeks.  Take  the  most  sluggish 
and  selfish  nature,  the  man  who  won't  so  much 
as  get  out  of  bed  to  do  a  friend  a  good  turn, — 
you  can  make  him  do  w^hat  you  want  by  the  very 
simple  device  of  going  on  knocking  till  you  cause 
it  to  dawn  upon  his  slumbering  brain  that  the/ 
only  way  to  get  the  sleep  he  so  much  desires  is 
first  of  all  to  satisfy  you.  Or  take  the  other  most 
unpromising  case  you  can  think  of,  that  of  a 
thoroughly  and  unscrupulously  unjust  judge. 
The  man  who,  of  all  living  Englishmen,  knows 
the  East  best,  says  that  "  there  are  three  ways  of 
treating  Asiatic  officials — by  bribe,  by  bullying, 
or  by  bothering  them  with  a  dogged  perseverance 

into  attending  to  you  and  your  concerns,"     The 
26 


402  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

two  former  methods  being  out  of  the  question 
with  a  poor  widow,  she  adopts  the  third.  She 
does  not  go  home  and  wail  to  her  children,  she 
does  not  content  herself  with  regretfully  wishing 
that  a  just  judge  occupied  the  judgment  seat  ; 
she  merely  makes  up  her  mind :  *'  I  ivill  have 
justice.  I  will  annoy,  pester,  harass,  torment, 
plague  him,  until  he  sees  that  the  easier  course 
for  himself  is  to  look  into  my  matters.  I  am  but 
a  poor,  desolate,  weak  creature  ;  but  as  the  small 
insect  can  madden  the  hugest  beast  of  the  forest, 
so  will  I  fix  upon  him  until  he  shall  be  glad  to  get 
quit  of  me  at  any  price." 

The  principle  which  these  Parables  illustrate  is 
well  understood — the  principle  that  importunity 
succeeds  in  wringing  consent  from  the  reluctant, 
relief  from  the  niggardly,  its  own  way  from  all. 
The  dog  that  is  driven  from  following  his  master 
understands  that,  if  he  only  continue,  his  master 
will  yield  and  give  him  his  way.  Never  a  child 
grew  up  ignorant  of  this,  that  prolonged,  persistent 
crying  can  wring  from  a  parent  what  has  been  ab- 
solutely refused  at  first.  It  is  to  this  principle  the 
beggar  trusts  when  he  obstinately  shuts  his  ears 
to  denial,  and  follows  supplicating  till  an  alms  is 
given,  not  to  relieve  him,  but  to  relieve  the  giver. 
And  it  was  on  this  principle  the  widow  of  the 
Parable  acted,  not  counting  at  all  on  the  charity 
of  the  judge,  but  still  confident  that  she  would 
get  from  him  what  he  had  no  desire  nor  intention 


'    THE   UNJUST  JUDGE.  403 

to  give  her  ;  knowing  that,  if  she  only  held  to 
him,  the  time  would  come  when  he  should  be 
forced  to  say,  "  Because  this  widow  troubleth  me, 
I  will  avenge  her,  lest  by  her  continual  coming 
she  weary  me."  There  was  nothing  in  the  judge 
the  widow  could  count  upon.  There  was  no  in- 
fluence, human  or  Divine,  which  this  poor  woman 
could  bring  to  bear  upon  him.  Would  she  threaten 
him  with  Divine  vengeance  and  call  heaven  to  I 
witness  against  his  injustice?  He  would  like  it, 
he  would  count  it  a  treat ;  he  would  call  in  his 
companions  to  help  him  to  enjoy  the  widow's 
anguish.  Would  she  come  meekly,  piteously, 
and  fall  at  his  feet,  pointing  to  her  sackcloth  and 
her  train  of  helpless  children?  Would  she  hold 
up  to  him  the  little  infant  to  smile  in  his  face  and 
melt  the  hard  heart  ?  He  would  drive  her  from 
his  judgment  seat  with  a  curse,  or  he  would  jest 
with  her,  or  turn  to  other  business.  Would  she 
inform  against  him  or  expose  him  ?  He  was  al- 
ready exposed,  and  had  nothing  to  hide.  Would 
she  get  help  against  him  ?  But  he  was  the  man 
of  whom  all  others  were  afraid.  Here,  in  short, 
was  a  man  of  whom  the  description  is  intended 
to  convey  to  us  the  idea  that  he  was  thoroughly 
impracticable, — that  if  in  any  circumstances  a 
person  might  seem  warranted  in  turning  away 
hopeless,  this  widow  was  in  such  circumstances, 
and  yet  she  obtained  her  request. 

The   argument    our    Lord    builds    on    these 


404  THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

instances  is  very  intelligible  and  very  cogent. 
Reckon  on  finding  in  God  no  more  readiness  to 
hear  and  to  help  than  you  can  count  on  in  the 
most  hardened  and  illiberal  and  selfish  of  men, 
and  yet  do  not  rest  till  you  obtain  your  request 
from  Him.  Though  you  have  not  yet  succeeded, 
and  though  you  are  beginning  to  think  prayer 
utterly  useless  and  a  mere  waste  of  time  and 
of  feeling,  follow  Him,  cry  after  Him,  lay  hold 
on  His  skirt,  and  weary  Him  into  compliance. 
Though,  so  far  from  indicating  the  slightest 
willingness  to  help  and  bless  you,  God  had 
again  and  again  repulsed  you ;  though  He  had 
given  you  every  reason  to  believe  that  He 
would  never  grant  your  request  nor  raise  a 
finger  to  help  you,  yet  the  course  which  reason 
and  your  own  interest  approve  is  to  persist  in 
presenting  your  suit  before  Him.  To  do  other- 
wise would  be  to  prove  yourselves  bereft  of  the 
wit  of  this  poor  untrained  widow,  and  even  of 
the  instinct  of  the  inferior  creatures.  Though 
you  had  reason  to  believe  that  God  has  no  love, 
no  interest  in  you,  that  you  are  as  unlikely  to 
move  Him  as  this  widow  who  had  none  to 
speak  a  word  for  her  to  the  judge,  though  all 
the  world  is  saying,  "  There  is  no  help  for  him 
in  God,"  and  though  your  own  soul  is  saying, 
**  I  am  forgotten  as  a  dead  man  out  of  mind,'* 
yet  you  may  have  your  desire.  Only  when  you 
can    say,^  There   is  nothing   God  can  give  me ; 


THE   UNJUST  JUDGE.  405 

only  when  you  can  say  that  already  you  have 
in  actual  and  secure  possession  what  you  are 
ready  to  spend  eternity  with ;  only  then  can 
you  reasonably  cease  to  pray. 

This,  however,  by  no  means  exhausts  the 
force  of  our  Lord's  argument  in  the  Parable. 
There  is  a  "  how  much  more  **  in  it.  The  ar- 
gument is  not  merely,  If  the  unjust  judge  was 
thus  coerced,  you  may  also  expect  God  to 
yield  ;  but  rather,  If  persistent  entreaty  pre- 
vailed with  one  who  was  resolved  not  to  give, 
how  much  more  will  it  prevail  with  one  who  is 
more  anxious  than  the  petitioner  himself  that 
justice  be  done.  Suppose  that  the  wisdom  and 
integrity  of  the  judge  had  never  been  ques- 
tioned ;  that  his  name  had  become  the  synonym 
for  righteous  and  equitable  judgment ;  that 
every  man  who  had  a  just  cause  rejoiced  when 
appeal  could  be  made  to  him  ;  and  that  he  was 
especially  regarded  by  the  poor  and  oppressed 
as  their  champion  and  defender ;  nothing  but 
unpardonable  weakness  could  have  made  the 
widow  despair  of  being  heard  by  such  a  man.  , 
Suppose  that  her  case  required  delay,  and  that  * 
the  judge  had  assured  her  of  this  in  the  ten- 
derest  and  most  encouraging  terms  that  could 
be  used  from  his  seat  of  ofifice — would  she  not 
have  been  almost  worthy  of  misery  had  she 
gone  from  court  grumbling  or  fearful?  Suppose 
still  further  that   during  the  whole  term  of  her 


406  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

suit  the  judge  was  doing  her  many  acts  of 
kindness,  providing  for  her  children,  reminding 
her  of  his  friendship  for  her  deceased  husband, 
assuring  her  on  his  oath  of  the  ultimate  success 
of  her  appeal,  sending  her  every  morning  some 
little  token  to  keep  her  heart  up — can  you 
conceive  any  one  so  unreasonable  as  to  cherish 
suspicion  in  such  circumstances  ?  But  even 
such  a  state  of  matters  does  not  represent  our 
own  relation  to  God  in  prayer.  For  it  is  ab- 
solute justice,  absolute  faithfulness,  absolute 
simplicity  of  purpose  to  bless  us,  with  which  we 
have  to  do. 

In  our  day  fainting  in  prayer  arises  not  from 
any  direct  doubt  of  God's  goodness  so  much  as 
from  the  belief  that,  however  much  He  was  con- 
cerned in  setting  this  world  in  motion  at  the 
first.  He  has  retired  from  any  active  interfe- 
rence in  its  affairs,  and  allows  it  to  be  regulated 
solely  by  laws  inherent  in  things  themselves, 
or  at  any  rate  actually  in  existence  and  inexo- 
rable. We  all  find  that  this  world,  with  ourselves 
and  all  else  that  is  in  it,  is  under  certain  laws — 
laws  of  nature,  as  we  call  them.  We  find  that 
a  certain  never-failing  order  of  things  is  estab- 
lished. The  sun  rises  every  morning  without 
fail,  without  fail  it  shines  on  us  more  in  summer 
than  in  winter;  the  tides  ebb  and  flow  in  un- 
altering  and  calculable  order ;  certain  diseases 
have  a  course  that  can  be  predicted.     Wherever 


THE   UNJUST  JUDGE.  407 

we  recognize  this  inflexible  course  of  things,  we 
accept  it  as  the  order  established  by  God's  will 
and  submit  ourselves  to  it.  A  man  may  know 
that  the  rising  of  to-morrow's  sun  will  bring 
with  it  death  or  misery  worse  than  death,  but 
he  does  not  pray  that  the  sun  may  not  rise. 
He  knows  that,  pray  as  he  may,  the  sun  will 
rise.  The  godly  maiden,  who  for  her  faith  was 
bound  to  a  stake  within  reach  of  the  tide,  did 
not  pray  that  the  tide  might  be  stayed  in  its 
flow;  or,  whether  she  prayed  or  not,  the  tide, 
gradually  and  precisely  in  its  usual  manner, 
came  in,  making  no  recognition  of  her  prayers 
or  of  her  condition.  The  most  believing  of  men 
ceases  to  pray  for  the  life  of  a  friend  who  is 
declared  and  seen  to  be  drawing  near  to  death. 
In  such  cases  it  becomes  apparent  to  the  peti- 
tioner that  his  desires  are  not  consistent  with 
the  will  of  God,  and  he  feels  that  to  continue  to 
pray  would  be  not  reverent  but  irreverent. 

But  it  is  argued,  and  with  much  plausibility, 
that  every  future  event,  every  occurrence  of  any 
kind  that  may  in  any  way  affect  us,  is  already 
as  certain  as  the  death  of  a  man  incurably  dis- 
eased. The  storm  which  wrecks  the  ill-fated 
ship  is  not  aroused  by  chance,  but  by  definite 
though  sometimes  obscure  and  complicated 
causes.  And  if  the  wife  or  mother  who  prays 
for  those  at  sea  saw  these  causes,  would  not 
prayer  die  from  her  lips,  and  the  chill  of  despair 


408  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

freeze  the  warm  utterances  of  faith  ?  The  prayer 
is  uttered  because  the  event  is  not  seen  to  be 
certain  ;  tlie  effect  is  not  seen  in  the  cause ;  but 
an  enlarged  knowledge  of  the  laws  of  nature,  a 
j  deeper  insight  into  the  connection  of  one  thing 
with  another,  would  see  that  only  one  event  is 
possible,  and  that  it  is  useless  hoping  for  any 
other.  Every  man  ceases  to  pray  when  he  sees 
what  is  going  to  happen.  But  everything  is  as 
certainly  produced  by  causes  already  in  exist- 
ence, as  that  effect  which  he  distinctly  foresees. 
We  pray  because  we  are  ignorant  of  what  is 
going  to  take  place  ;  but  if  our  knowledge  of  all 
the  laws  of  nature  were  as  accurate  as  our  knowl- 
edge of  some  of  them  is,  we  should  altogether 
cease  to  pray. 

Many  persons,  moved  by  such  representations, 
[  do  abandon  the  practise  of  prayer.  We  may  sup- 
I  pose  one  of  their  number  stating  his  case  in  this 
way :  I  believe  in  God.  I  believe  that  every  law 
which  regulates  the  course  of  things  in  this  world 
is  of  His  appointment,  and  is  therefore  the  best 
possible.  I  am  perfectly  satisfied  with  what  I  re- 
ceive from  the  operation  of  these  laws;  any  suf 
fering  I  have  to  endure  I  recognize  as  perfectly 
just.  I  am  aware  that  the  government  under 
which  I  should  have  been  perfectly  happy  could 
not  have  been  a  just  government.  I  am  content 
to  live  on  under  these  laws,  and  I  resign  myself 
to  them.     But  when  you  ask  me  to  pray,  you 


THE   UNJUST  JUDGE.  409 

perplex  me.  I  can  worship  God  :  I  can  come  to 
Him  morning  and  evening  and  acknowledge  Him 
and  delight  in  Him.  But  when  you  ask  me  to  be 
continually  laying  before  Him  some  request  for 
His  interference  with  the  natural  result  of  those 
very  laws  He  has  appointed  as  the  best ;  when 
you  bid  me  ask  Him  for  anything  which  would 
not  come  to  me  by  the  operation  of  natural  laws, 
you  perplex  me  wholly.  Prayer,  instead  of  being 
the  strength  and  joy  of  my  religion,  has  been  my 
permanent  difficulty,  an  insoluble  puzzle.  I  seem 
to  have  more  faith  in  God  when  I  do  not  pray.  I 
find  it  easier  to  believe  in  God  when  I  think  of 
Him  as  the  Author  of  nature  who  knows  that 
'*  we  have  need  of  all  these  things,"  than  when  I 
am  asked  to  supplicate  His  interference  with  the 
established  order  of  things. 

And  yet  the  reasoning  which  results  in  prayer- 
lessness  is  not  so  conclusive  as  it  seems.  This 
reverence  for  the  order  of  nature,  on  which  it  pro- 
ceeds, does  not  prevent  its  devotees  from  resist- 
ing its  laws  to  the  utmost  and  from  endeavoring 
to  manipulate  them  to  their  own  advantage. 
They  check  the  natural  course  of  a  disease,  and 
thwart  the  operation  of  the  laws  which  govern 
disease,  by  the  skill  that  comes  of  accumulated 
observation  and  experiment.  They  do  not  allow 
nature  to  take  its  course,  but  guide  it  so  as  to 
avert  threatening  danger.  May  not  God  do  the 
same?     May   not   the   subtle,    incomprehensible 


4IO  THE    PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

Intelligence  that  resides  in  nature  and  upholda 
it,  guide  it  in  ways  and  to  issues  unattainable  by 
our  puny  efforts? 

There  are  two  powers  which  we  ourselves  pos- 
sess and  which  we  cannot  but  ascribe  to  God  also. 
We  have,  first,  a  power  in  our  own  wills  to  move 
our  own  bodies.  This  power  is  mysterious  and 
not  as  yet  understood.  We  cannot  understand 
how  a  spiritual  force  such  as  that  of  the  will  can 
become  a  physical  force,  lifting  the  arm,  moving 
the  lips,  and  so  forth.  But,  understood  or  not 
understood,  the  power  exists.  God,  though  un- 
seen and  spiritual,  has  the  same  power  directly  to 
move  material  things  and  effect  His  will  in  them. 
To  this  power  the  limit  can  only  be  in  God  Him- 
self, not  in  any  external  obstacle. 

We  have  also  a  power  to  play  off  one  law  of 
nature  against  another ;  to  make  a  balloon  rise, 
e.g.  by  using  the  law  of  the  levity  of  gas  to 
counteract  the  law  of  gravitation.  We  can  make 
one  ingredient  in  nature  counterwork  another, 
and  so  use  its  right  hand  against  its  left  as  to 
make  it  harmless  where  otherwise  it  would  be 
hurtful.  The  law  that  guides  a  disease  to  a  fatal 
issue  we  can  defeat  by  the  help  of  another  law 
which  gives  to  certain  remedies  power  to  check 
and  remove  the  disease.  By  adjusting  one  law 
of  nature  to  another,  by  bringing  together  things 
naturally  separate,  and  by  directing  the  course  of 
natural  law  into  channels  of  our  own  devising,  we 


THE    UNJUST   JUDGE.  4II 

can  bring  about  results  of  the  most  surprising 
kind,  and  which  could  never  be  brought  about  by 
nature  herself.  The  telescope,  the  hydraulic 
press,  the  railway,  the  telegraph — these  are  not 
natural  results,  but  they  are  results  of  natural 
laws  manipulated  by  human  ingenuity.  This 
power  to  use  nature  for  purposes  she  could  never 
of  herself  accomplish,  we  cannot  but  ascribe  to 
God  as  well  as  to  ourselves.  We  cannot  but  be- 
lieve that  if  there  be  a  God,  a  conscious,  intelli- 
gent, individual  existence  at  the  root  of  all  that 
is,  He  must  have  this  power  of  playing  off  one 
law  of  nature  against  another,  and  of  so  guiding, 
controlling,  and  adapting  the  whole  of  nature  and 
every  part  of  it  as  to  work  out  His  own  purposes. 
He  has  this  power,  not  in  the  measure  we  have  it 
so  that  we  can  produce  results  which  seem  mi- 
raculous to  the  uninitiated,  but  absolutely  and 
without  measure  so  that  He  can  produce  results 
inconceivable  and  incomprehensible. 

But  even  though  God's  power  to  answer  prayer 
be  not  questioned,  it  may  still  be  doubted  whether 
He  can  be  expected  to  depart  from  His  purpose 
or  ''  plan  "  of  all  that  is  to  be.  It  is  sometimes 
said  to  be  impious,  irreverent,  blasphemous,  to 
ask  God  to  allow  our  wills  to  influence  His,  our 
wisdom  to  instruct  His,  our  interests  to  counter- 
balance the  interests  of  the  universe.  But  it  is 
obvious  that  God's  plan  may  have  included  this 
very  thing,  that  certain  results  are  to  be  brought 


412  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

about  by  prayer.  God's  eternal  will  and  knowl- 
edge embrace  not  only  certain  ends  that  are  to 
be  accomplished,  but  all  that  is  to  bring  about 
these  ends.  His  design  is  not  an  outline  or 
skeleton  draft  of  the  future,  but  an  outline  filled 
in  with  every  detail.  It  is  very  conceivable  that 
God  may  have  ordained  that  such  and  such  things 
take  place  in  connection  with  and  as  the  result 
of  the  prayers  of  those  who  wait  upon  Him  ;  and 
if  so,  prayer  cannot  be  considered  an  interference 
with  His  plan,  but  a  fulfilment  of  it. 

But  that  which  too  frequently  gives  force  to 
all  objections  is  our  own  experience  of  the  slender 
results  of  prayer.  We  faint  in  prayer,  and  gradu- 
ally become  formal  and  remiss,  because  our  own 
prayers  have  so  often  been  apparently  in  vain. 
We  believe  in  hard  work,  because  what  we  work 
for  we  get.  We  can  see  in  our  life  the  results  of 
hard  work ;  but  some  of  us  are  ready  to  say  we 
can  see  in  our  possession  not  one  thing  which  we 
might  not  equally  have  had,  had  we  never  prayed. 
This  is  the  temptation  not  only  of  the  individual, 
but  of  the  Church.  All  Christian  people  have 
been  praying  for  eighteen  centuries  that  the  king- 
dom of  God  might  come,  and  how  small  an  ap- 
pearance of  answer  has  there  been. 

But  convincing  as  the  evidence  of  experience 
IS,  we  may  misconstrue  experience,  and  must 
balance  it  by  considerations  which  also  have 
weight.     We  must  consider  that  there   may  be 


THE  UNJUST  JUDGE.  413 

good  reason  for  not  answering  some  prayers,  and 
also  that  our  Lord  foresaw  that  it  would  be  diffi- 
cult to  maintain  faith  and  therefore  encourages  us 
to  do  so. 

That  there  may  be  reason  for  not  answering 
some  prayers  we  cannot  but  admit.  We  are 
aware  that  we  have  uttered  unseasonable,  ill-con- 
sidered, petulant,  unholy  prayers.  It  cannot  but 
make  us  ashamed  to  reflect  how  frequently  we 
have  besought  God  to  pander  to  the  most  un- 
worthy feelings,  to  make  provision  for  the  flesh, 
to  satisfy  our  own  petty  ambition,  to  gratify 
some  earthly  passion.  Prayers  which  at  bottom 
are  dictated  by  mere  self-love,  sensuality,  ambi- 
tion, envy,  revenge,  covetousness,  are  not  heard. 
And  if  in  our  conscience  we  know  that  the  disap- 
pointment of  our  desires  was  calculated  to  do  us 
more  good  than  their  gratification  ;  if,  that  is,  we 
recognize  that  the  consideration  which  refused 
our  petitions  was  really  deeper  than  that  which 
should  have  granted  them ;  then  we  see  how 
right  and  reasonable  has  been  the  delay  in  an- 
swering us.  And  such  delays  are  teaching  us 
more  and  more  that  it  is  when  we  "  seek  first  the 
kingdom  of  God  and  His  righteousness  "  that  we 
are  answered  speedily  ;  it  is  when  we  get  up 
above  what  is  merely  selfish,  individual,  and 
earthly,  and  rise  to  the  region  in  which  we  begin 
to  see  what  it  is  God  is  aiming  at  and  counts 
worthy  of  His  effort,  it  is  when  our  hearts  are 


414  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

enlarged  by  a  knowledge  of  His  purposes,  and  we 
begin  to  seek  the  common  good  and  blessings 
that  are  eternal,  that  we  feel  confidence  in  prayer 
and  know  it  must  prevail. 

Answers  are  delayed,  too,  because  the  prayer 
was  not  hearty.  God  has  made  no  promise  to 
answer  insincere  prayer ;  and  that  prayer  is  insin- 
cere which  is  not  followed  up  by  hearty  efforts  to 
obtain  the  thing  sought.  Or  it  is  so  formal  that, 
though  the  answer  came,  we  should  not  recognize 
it.  Angels  are  at  our  gates,  but  because  their 
wings  are  folded  and  we  have  not  traced  their 
descent  from  heaven,  we  do  not  notice  them  nor 
invite  them  to  abide  with  us.  We  lose  thus  a 
thousand  of  God's  gifts,  not  recognizing  that  the 
very  thing  we  need  is  brought  within  our  reach. 
We  see  the  change  of  circumstances,  not  the 
fresh  opportunity ;  we  feel  the  disappointment, 
not  the  hand  of  God  giving  us  humility  ;  we  recog- 
nize the  bitterness  and  the  sorrow,  but  not  the 
heavenly  mind  and  abandonment  of  worldly  am- 
bitions which  they  enfold. 

Again,  there  is  an  order  in  God's  gifts,  and  we 
cannot  have  the  greater  unless  first  we  have  the 
less.  We  ask  God  to  give  us  this  or  that  grace, 
as  if  it  could  be  suddenly  conferred  upon  us,  ir- 
respective of  our  present  character  ;  and  we  ask 
it  without  considering  how  much  we  ourselves 
may  have  to  do  and  to  suffer  before  we  can  attain 
it.     Character  has  an  organic  Integrity  and  a  con- 


THE   UNJUST  JUDGE.  415 

secutive  growth  as  a  tree  has.  You  cannot  ex- 
pect fruit  if  there  has  been  no  blossom.  No 
power  can  cause  fruit  to  grow  before  a  branch 
has  grown  to  bear  it.  But  in  many  of  our  peti- 
tions we  ask  God  to  give  us  fruit  without  either 
branch,  blossom,  or  time.  We  ask  Him  to  build 
the  top  story  of  our  house  before  the  lower  story 
is  begun.  We  wish  ability  to  accomplish  certain 
objects  before  we  have  the  fundamental  graces 
out  of  which  that  ability  can  alone  spring.  Your 
child  asks  you  to  give  him  your  skill  in  calculat- 
ing or  your  knowledge  of  a  language ;  what  can 
you  do  ?  You  can  only  say  to  him,  ''  My  boy, 
these  things  cannot  be  immediately  given.  I 
can  only  see  that  you  are  educated  and  help  you 
to  persevere,  and  one  day  you  will  have  the 
knowledge  you  ask.  But  it  cannot  be  given  ;  it 
must  grow.  You  cannot  get  it  without  me,  but 
neither  can  you  get  it  without  much  hard  work 
of  your  own." 

So  when  we  are  suddenly  put  to  shame  by  our 
lack  of  Christian  temper,  or  courage,  or  charity, 
or  sobriety  of  mind,  or  unworldliness,  we  as  sud- 
denly ask  Christ  for  the  grace  we  need,  appar- 
ently supposing  that  it  is  as  easily  manufactured 
and  assumed  as  a  new  suit  of  clothes ;  that  we 
have  just  to  give  the  order  and  put  on  the  ready- 
made  habit.  Let  us  deal  reasonably  with  God. 
Let  us  bear  in  mind  that  many  of  the  gifts  we  are 
in  the  habit  of  asking  are  such  qualities  of  soul  as 


4l6  THE   PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

can  be  produced  only  by  long  and  painful  pro- 
cesses. You  ask  for  humility.  Do  you  consider 
that  in  so  doing  you  ask  for  that  which  makes 
humility  humiliation;  for  failure,  mortified  vanity 
disappointed  hopes?  You  ask  for  a  heavenly 
mind.  Do  you  consider  that  in  so  doing  you  ask 
to  be  led  forward  to  those  painful  times  which 
compel  men  to  feel  that  here  they  have  no  per- 
manent home  ?  You  ask  to  be  near  Christ  and 
like  Him.  Can  you  be  baptized  with  His  baptism, 
can  you  drink  of  His  cup  ? 

But  undoubtedly  that  on  which  we  chiefly  and 
wisely  fall  back  is  the  plain  command  of  our 
Lord,  that  we  should  continue  praying.  Very 
often  we  have  just  to  own  we  do  not  see  all  round 
this  matter,  and  abide  by  the  unmistakable 
promise  which  built  up  our  Lord's  own  strength, 
"Ask,  and  ye  shall  receive."  If  there  was  one 
thing  more  than  another  He  taught  about  God, 
it  was  just  this,  that  He  answers  prayer;  if  there 
is  any  truth,  any  meaning  in  His  plain  assertion 
that  He  knew  God,  and  that  by  having  been  in 
heaven  He  understood  how  heavenly  things  are 
managed,  then  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  if  we 
go  on  asking  we  shall  receive,  and  that  if  we  go 
on  knocking  at  that  door  which  now  is  shut  we 
shall  one  day  find  entrance  to  the  light  we  crave, 
and  pass  through  all  that  bars  our  progress.  This 
is  the  time  of  seeking,  this  is  the  time  when  we 
rnay  reasonably  say,  ''  We  are  but  of  yesterday, 


THE    UNJUST  JUDGE.  417 

and  know  nothing; ''  it  becomes  us,  therefore,  to 
believe,  to  inquire,  to  be  diligent  in  seeking  what 
our  highest  instincts  prompt  us  to,  assured  that 
one  day  the  door  shall  be  open  to  those  who  have 
besieged  it,  and  that  we  shall  have  what  we  now 
crave  and  enter  on  the  fruit  of  all  honest  effort. 
27 


THE  PHARISEE  AND  THE  PUBLICAN 
AT  PRAYER. 

Luke  xviii.  9-14. 

The  purpose  of  this  trenchant  Parable  is  ex- 
plicitly stated.  It  was  leveled  at  those  who 
"  trusted  in  themselves  that  they  were  righteous, 
and  despised  others."  Such  a  temper  is  offensive 
in  whatever  field  of  conduct  it  is  displayed.  It 
must  not  be  confounded  with  humble  self-reliance. 
It  is  quite  possible  to  have  a  correct  estimate  both 
of  one's  own  merits  and  of  other  people's.  A 
military  commander  frequently  conjoins  with 
entire  self-confidence  a  salutary  respect  for  the 
skill  and  strength  of  the  force  that  opposes  him. 
But  a  self-confidence  which  exhibits  itself  at  the 
expense  of  other  men,  and  counts  its  merits  ex- 
ceptional, is  offensive,  and  if  not  empty  and 
delusive  is  at  least  foolish.  Self-admiration  ef- 
fectually excludes  a  man  from  the  admiration  of 
others;  and  although  self-confidence  will  often 
carry  a  man  over  many  of  the  ordinary  difficulties 
of  life,  it  almost  certainly  betrays  him  into  greater 
difficulties. 

That  religion,  whose  function  it  is  to  render 
men  humble  and  loving,  should  actually  in  many 
418 


THE   PHARISEE  AND   THE   PUBLICAN.      419 

instances  make  them  self-satisfied  and  contemptu- 
ous, calls  for  explanation.  And  the  explanation 
is  not  far  to  seek.  Human  nature  displays  itself 
in  religion  as  in  everything  else  with  which  men 
have  to  do.  The  men  who  in  the  ordinary  walks 
of  life  seek  a  cheap  success  carry  their  slothful 
ambition  into  religion,  and  crave  an  eminence 
that  costs  them  little.  The  shallow  characters 
that  are  content  to  have  the  appearance  without 
the  reality,  reputation  without  worth,  applause 
without  desert,  priority  and  high  station  without 
superior  excellence,  are  content  to  be  accepted  as 
godly,  although  void  of  the  love  of  God.  And 
this  lack  of  integrity  and  downright  thoroughness, 
this  craving  for  appearance  and  reputation  irre- 
spective of  reality  and  excellence,  is  so  common  in 
every  community  that  morality  and  religion  tend 
to  be  dissociated.  There  are  always  persons  who 
wish  to  be  recognized  as  eminently  religious  ; 
their  desire  for  recognition  exceeds  their  craving 
for  that  which  deserves  it,  and  unconsciously  they 
erect  a  standard  of  judgment  which  is  at  once  easy 
of  attainment  and  out  of  the  ordinary  reach. 

Pharisaism  was  the  ripest  historical  manifesta- 
tion of  this  constant  tendency,  and  has  therefore 
given  its  name  to  similar  manifestations  in  all 
ages.  With  a  single  touch  our  Lord  brings  out  in 
the  Parable  the  t\vo  characteristics  of  all  Phar- 
isaism— its  ambitious  motive  and  its  false  standard. 
The  Pharisee  of  the  Parable  thanks  God  he  Is  not 


420  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

as  other  men  ;  his  religion  has  been  rather  an  af- 
fair between  him  and  other  men  than  between  him 
and  God.  His  object  in  cultivating  religion  has 
been  to  surpass  other  men  and  win  their  favorable 
judgment;  and  now  that  he  has  made  good  for 
himself  the  claim  to  be  a  religious  man  he  is 
satisfied.  Further,  the  standard  of  comparison 
which  he  uses,  and  by  applying  which  he  fancies 
himself  superior  to  others,  is  one  not  of  morality 
but  of  superficial  purity  and  formal  observances  ; 
he  is  not  an  adulterer,  nor  an  extortioner,  and  he 
fasts  twice  a  week. 

It  is  this  tendency  to  judge  by  outward  acts 
rather  than  by  the  essential  character,  and  to  sub- 
stitute observances  for  righteousness,  which  consti- 
tutes the  danger  of  Pharisaism.  Anxious  rather 
to  have  the  credit  of  being  righteous  than  actually 
to  be  so,  the  Pharisee  thinks  it  enough  to  maintain 
an  outwarcl  purity  of  life.  The  letter  of  the  law 
he  knows  he  must  satisfy,  and  in  all  matters  to 
which  that  letter  applies  he  is  careful  and  exact. 
But  while  attending  to  his  conduct  so  far  as  it 
meets  the  eye,  he  is  careless  of  the  state  of  his 
heart.  The  man,  the  real  nature  and  permanent 
dispositions,  are  overlooked,  and  nothing  is 
thought  of  but  the  conduct.  The  idea  grows  that 
good  actions  make  a  good  man,  and  it  is  forgotten 
that  unless  the  man  is  good  the  actions  cannot  be 
good.  The  Pharisee  holds  that  good  fruit  makes 
the  tree  good,  and  does   not  believe  that  only  if 


THE   PHARISEE   AND    THE   PUBLICAN.      42 1 

the  tree  is  good  can  the  fruit  be  good.  His  own 
eternal  character  he  is  little  concerned  about,  if 
only  he  has  a  good  reputation  :  the  real  good  of 
men  is  not  the  object  of  his  moral  endeavors,  and 
so  he  is  satisfied  if  he  seems  to  be  fulfilling  the 
law.  There  is  thus  propagated  a  misconception 
of  morality  all  round ;  a  misconception  of  its 
nature,  of  its  use,  of  the  means  of  its  attainment. 
Morality  being  thus  misconceived,  religion  also 
is  misconceived.^  The  Pharisee,  aiming  only  at  a 
superficial  and  selfish  morality,  feels  no  need  of 
coming  into  a  living  fellowship  with  the  root  of 
all  goodness  in  God.  It  is  impossible,  therefore, 
he  should  understand  what  religion  is.  But  seek- 
ing to  have  a  conspicuous  religion,  he  finds  this  in 
a  routine  of  observances  which  can  be  performed 
irrespective  of  character,  by  good  men  and  bad 
men  alike.  Certain  observances  are  added  to  the 
moral  law,  and  by  degrees  these  observances  take 
a  higher  place  than  the  common  duties  of  life. 
These  extras  come  to  be  considered  the  distinctive 
mark  of  a  religious  man,  so  that  each  person's 
status  or  rank  in  the  religious  world  is  determined 
by  his  observance  of  these,  and  not  by  his  regard 
to  justice,  charity,  truth,  purity.  And  when 
Pharisaism  dominates  in  any  community,  men  are 
actually  judged  irrespective  of  character,  and  their 
position  as  religious  or  irreligious  persons  is  deter- 
mined by  their  observance  or  non-observance  of 
certain  outward  forms  and  practises  which  have  no 


422  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

necessary  connection  with  morality.  If  inquiry 
is  made  regarding  a  man's  religion,  if  it  is  asked 
whether  he  is  a  religious  or  an  irreligious  man, 
such  features  of  his  life  are  cited  as,  that  he  has 
prayers  in  his  family  night  and  morning,  that  he 
is  regular  in  his  attendance  at  church,  that  he  takes 
an  interest  in  ecclesiastical  affairs,  but  not  that  he 
is  honorable  and  straightforward  in  business, 
helpful  to  his  relatives,  careless  of  display  and  of 
gain.  It  is  obvious  that  a  man  of  no  character 
can  fast  twice  a  week,  and  will  do  so  if  he  can 
thereby  secure  his  own  ends.  Of  all  such  observ- 
ances we  may  use  Paul's  language  and  say, 
"  Meat  commendeth  us  not  to  God  :  for  neither, 
if  we  eat,  are  we  the  better ;  neither,  if  we  eat  not, 
are  we  the  worse." 

The  Pharisee  thus  misapprehends  the  meaning 
and  use  of  religious  observances,  and  distorts  the 
relation  between  morality  and  religion.  The 
great  end  of  religion  is  to  bring  us  into  perfect 
harmony  with  God,  a  harmony  which  is  not  the 
merely  apparent  and  temporary  alliance  which 
can  be  effected  by  compulsion  or  outward  arrange- 
ment, but  the  thorough  unanimity  and  eternal 
fellowship  which  result  from  identity  of  will  and 
similarity  of  character.  In  a  word,  the  great  end 
of  religion  is  to  make  us  like  to  God — to  make  us 
just  and  loving,  truthful  and  pure.  Religion  has 
not  done  its  work  until  we  are  in  very  truth  the 
children  of  God  ;    and  we  cannot   be  called    re- 


THE   PHARISEE   AND    THE   PUBLICAN.      423 

ligious  men,  in  any  but  a  mos'c  superficial  and 
misleading  sense,  until  we  are  morally  like  God. 
In  order  to  accomplish  this  great  end  of  religion 
a  certain  training  is  needful,  and  this  training  is 
aided  by  the  observance  of  certain  practises,  rites, 
and  forms  of  worship.  Prayer,  worship,  attend- 
ance on  ordinances,  and  so  forth,  are  requisite  as 
means  for  the  attainment  of  the  knowledge  and 
love  of  God  out  of  which  holiness  springs.  Un- 
fortunately, the  practise  of  these  observances  is 
much  more  obvious  as  a  distinctive  mark  of  re- 
ligious people  than  the  result  of  them  in  excep- 
tional holiness  of  life.  Not  all  who  profess  re- 
ligion become  more  upright  and  less  worldly  than 
their  neighbors,  but  all  who  profess  reHgion  do 
attend  church  and  maintain  certain  appearances 
of  godliness.  And  in  consequence,  these  observ- 
ances become  identified  with  religion,  while  a 
high  and  pure  morality  does  not  become  so  iden- 
tified ;  and  in  determining  whether  a  man  is  or  is 
not  religious,  attention  is  turned  to  a  few  habits, 
whose  real  importance  lies  solely  in  what  they 
accomplish  and  not  at  all  in  themselves.  And 
thus  Pharisaism  is  encouraged  ;  and  men  who 
would  not  for  the  world  go  to  bed  without  saying 
their  prayers,  or  who  make  a  great  scruple  about 
it,  make  no  scruple  at  all  about  slandering  or  cheat- 
ing their  neighbor,  about  being  cold  and  sullen 
and  tyrannical  at  home,  greedy  in  business,  vin- 
dictive and  violent  in  their  dealings  with  men. 


424  THE   PARABLES    OF    OUR   LORD. 

Evidently  no  perversion  of  religion  could  be 
more  fatal  than  this  substitution  of  the  means  for 
the  end.  To  make  religion  consist  in  repeating 
prayers,  observing  fasts,  attending  ordinances, 
upholding  rites,  is  to  reduce  it  to  a  pernicious, 
delusive,  deadening,  worse  than  useless  burden, 
which  reasonable  men  must  and  ought  at  once  to 
abolish.  To  encourage  men  to  imagine  that  they 
have  attained  the  summit  of  human  excellence 
when  they  can  fast  twice  a  week  is  plainly  to  bur- 
lesque religion.  To  induce  men  to  measure  their 
religious  attainment  by  their  diligence  in  any 
kind  of  ritual  observances  is  simply  to  fatally  de- 
lude them.  Religion,  instead  of  being  the  very 
life  of  the  spirit,  giving  it  its  true  place  in  the 
universe  and  imparting  to  it  eternal  principles,  is 
transformed  into  a  mere  matter  of  external  per- 
formances, which  might  be  as  accurately  dis- 
charged by  a  soulless  automaton. 

The  character  developed  by  such  a  conception 
of  religion  is  obnoxious  alike  to  God  and  man, 
offending  God  by  a  superficial  homage  and  alienat- 
ing men  by  self-satisfied  pride.  The  God  of  the 
Pharisee  is  not  the  loving  Father  of  all  men,  but 
a  distant,  self-seeking  Sovereign  who  must  be  pro- 
pitiated by  rites  and  ceremonies  and  sacrifices, 
and  who  cares  little  for  the  love  of  men  and  has 
little  interest  in  their  genuine  spiritual  growth. 
The  Pharisee's  religion  is  a  mere  tax  paid  to  this 
unattractive  and  impossible  Being,  and   not  an 


THE   PHARISEE  AND   THE   PUBLICAN.      425 

essential  of  human  life.  And  the  more  diligent  in 
his  religion  the  Pharisee  is,  the  less  capable  does 
he  become  of  cherishing  any  rational  and  large 
views  of  God's  relation  to  the  world  and  of  His 
work  in  it. 

Such  a  religion  stunts  his  humanity  as  well, 
and  instead  of  softening  him  and  widening  his 
sympathies  and  expanding  his  heart  and  his  life, 
by  the  consciousness  that  God  is  his  and  will  con- 
trol the  future,  it  contracts  and  hardens  his  whole 
nature.  He  is  recognizable  by  his  "  despising 
others."  A  just  estimate  of  the  difference  in  nat- 
ural advantages  which  makes  that  easy  to  one 
which  is  impossible  to  others  ;  an  intelligent  com- 
parison of  the  various  difificulties  with  which  dif- 
ferent  men  have  to  contend;  a  perception  of  what 
perfectness  of  character  really  is,  tends  to  make 
good  men  slow  to  pronounce  upon  their  neigh- 
bors. They  know  something  of  their  own  frailty, 
and  how  much  depravity  lies  hid  under  a  fairly 
righteous  conduct ;  they  know  how  obstinately 
the  heart  clings  to  natural  vices  of  thought  and 
feeling,  and  how  insecure  the  attainment  already 
made  seems  to  be,  and  how  remote  from  a  state 
in  which  sin  is  impossible,  and  feeling  how  slight 
and  hardly  won  their  own  victories  are,  they  have 
sympathy  with  the  defeated  and  are  slow  to  con- 
demn them.  Besides,  the  chief  element  in  true 
growth  is  growth  in  love  :  no  man  is  making  per- 
manent growth  in  character  who  is  not  growing 


426  THE   PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

in  sympathy,  in  pity,  in  helpfulness,  in  all  that  con- 
nects him  with  his  fellow-men.  To  be  perfect  is 
to  be  able  to  add  much  to  the  good  of  the  world, 
that  is  to  say,  to  have  the  disposition  and  the  abil- 
ity to  help  weaker  men  against  vice  and  its  con- 
sequences. The  attainment  in  godliness  which  is 
content  with  looking  down  on  sinful  men  and 
keeping  its  own  garments  clean  is  no  attainment 
at  all.  And  any  true  discernment  of  the  actual 
terms  on  which  the  battle  of  right  and  wrong  has 
actually  to  be  fought  out  by  men  in  this  world 
makes  it  impossible  to  despise  those  who  fall. 
Pharisaic  contempt  can  only  result  from  a  total 
misapprehension  of  what  human  virtue  consists  in 
and  of  how  it  is  attained. 

Foolish,  hateful,  and  fatal  as  these  views  of 
religion  are  then,  we  must  beware  lest  we  our- 
selves be  infected  with  the  leaven  of  the  Pharisees. 
We  are  so,  when  we  allow  our  attention  to  the 
forms  of  religion  to  hide  from  us  our  neglect  of 
its  inward  spirit ;  when  we  can  detect  the  slightest 
disposition  to  judge  our  religious  life  by  its  mani- 
festations in  worship  rather  than  by  its  manifesta- 
tions in  conduct ;  when  we  allow  ourselves  in  a 
self-satisfied  comparison  with  those  who  do  not 
carry  so  many  of  the  external  marks  of  religion 
as  we  do,  but  who  surpass  us  in  generosity,  in 
honor,  in  kindliness,  even  in  a  self-abasing  con- 
sciousness of  sin.  We  are  infected  with  the  leaven 
of  the  Pharisees  when  we   in    any  way  mistake 


THE   PHARISEE  AND   THE   PUBLICAN.      427 

means  for  ends  ;  when  we  read  the  Bible  or  pray 
as  if  these  occupations  were  duties  to  be  done  for 
their  own  sakes  and  not  for  the  sake  of  the  result 
they  have ;  when  we  are  satisfied  with  having 
attended  church,  though  it  has  done  us  no  good  ; 
when  we  allow  religious  service  to  be  an  end  in 
itself  and  not  a  means  towards  something  beyond 
itself.  We  are  infected  with  the  leaven  of  the 
Pharisees  when  we  look  more  to  the  duties  we  do 
than  to  the  spirit  and  motive  from  which  they 
spring ;  when  we  become  satisfied  with  ourselves 
because  we  do  certain  things  which  other  men  do 
not,  and  when  in  place  of  lowliness  and  charity 
our  religion  is  producing  in  us  self-complacency 
and  either  a  hard  contempt  or  a  compassionate 
patronage  of  other  men. 

This,  then,  is  the  type  of  religion  our  Lord  ex- 
hibits  in  the  Pharisee  of  the  Parable.  He  sets 
before  the  mind's  eye  of  His  hearers  a  person  they 
were  very  familiar  with  and  secretly  abhorred, 
though  they  feared  to  express  their  abhorrence. 
They  daily  saw  the  man  enter  the  temple  with 
scrupulous  conformity  to  every  prescription  of 
the  law  of  Moses  and  of  the  traditions  of  the 
elders — having  undergone  all  the  required  ablu- 
tions, with  phylacteries  fastened  in  the  most  ap- 
proved fashion,  his  face  shining  with  sanctimonious 
self-satisfaction,  or,  on  fast  days,  carefully  left  un. 
washed  and  untrimmed,  that  it  might  be  seen 
he  had  been  fasting,  pompously  and  decorously 


428  THE  PARABLES  OF  OUR  LORD. 

approaching  the  place  of  prayer,  and  with  measured 
phrase,  disturbed  by  no  agitating  emotion,  utter- 
ing his  unwitting  self-condemnation.  The  prayer 
our  Lord  puts  into  his  lips  looks  at  first  sight 
like  a  caricature,  and  we  find  it  difficult  to  believe 
that  any  man,  however  dyed  with  Pharisaism, 
could  be  so  absolutely  self-complacent  in  his  su- 
periority as  this  prayer  indicates.  But  not  only 
are  there  actual  prayers  on  record  which  rival  this 
in  blind  self-adulation,  but  it  is  certainly  not  an 
overdrawn  picture  of  the  Pharisaic  mind. 

In  contrast  to  the  superficial  religion  of  forms, 
our  Lord  sets  true  heart-religion.  Over  against 
the  Pharisee,  satisfied  with  himself  and  despising 
others,  stands  the  publican,  so  occupied  with  his 
own  sinful  state  that  he  cannot  think  of  other 
men.  There  is  no  comparison  instituted  between 
the  Pharisee  and  the  impenitent  sinner,  though 
even  such  a  comparison  might  not  be  altogether 
to  the  advantage  of  the  clean-living  Pharisee  ;  for 
self-satisfaction  is  a  more  obstinate  bar  to  pro- 
gress than  the  vices  of  men  who  make  no  preten- 
sions to  virtue.  But  between  the  Pharisee  and 
the  penitent  publican  the  comparison  must  be 
wholly  in  favor  of  the  latter.  Here  is  a  man  who 
unconsciously  goes  direct  to  the  heart  of  religion. 
By  a  simple  recognition  of  his  actual  condition 
he  shoots  at  a  bound  far  ahead  of  the  Pharisee. 
The  very  circumstance  that  his  sins  are  gross  and 
undeniable  is  in  his   favor.     Condemned  as  he  is 


THE  PHARISEE  AND   THE   PUBLICAN.      429 

by  the  judgment  of  men,  he  feels  himself  to  be 
inexcusable  ;  and  aided  thus  by  the  conscience  of 
others,  his  own  conscience  loudly  accuses  him. 

The  true  penitent  is  identified  by  every  mark 
of  humble  and  sincere  contrition :  he  stands  afar 
off,  his  shame  will  not  suffer  him  to  lift  up  his 
eyes  ;  in  his  misery  he  beats  his  breast ;  he  can- 
not, so  deep  in  his  sense  of  guilt,  even  address 
God  directly,  but  merely  ejaculates,  **  God  be 
merciful  to  me  a  sinner."  It  is  the  picture  of  a 
man  thoroughly  alive  to  all  the  shame  and  misery 
of  sin.  His  sin  is  past  apology,  extenuation,  or 
explanation.  It  is  the  grand  feature  of  his  life  : 
he  has  nothing  else  to  speak  of ;  it  occupies  his 
thoughts.  He  has  not  the  remotest  idea  that 
anything  acceptable  to  God  can  be  found  in  him. 
"  A  sinner  " — that  is  the  term  that  describes  him. 
Mercy  is  the  only  attribute  of  God  he  dare  appeal 
to.  He  does  not  buoy  himself  up  with  any  re- 
membrance of  almsdeeds  or  prayers  in  the  past, 
nor  with  any  promise  of  amendment.  His  is  a 
case  that  it  is  in  vain  to  disguise;  he  does  not  at- 
tempt to  give  any  account  of  it :  he  can  but  utter 
the  one  cry  that  is  left  to  the  man  who  knows  his 
whole  life  has  been  wrong  and  that  no  power  of 
reparation  is  now  left  to  him. 

Such  a  condition  is  probably  not  rare.  Rare 
it  may  be  in  instructed  and  religious  circles,  where 
penitence  is  urged  as  a  duty  ;  but  probably  not 
rare  among  those  who  have  not  put  themselves 


430  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

much  in  the  way  of  religious  instruction  and  whose 
penitence  is  the  sincere  and  genuine  growth  of 
their  own  experience  of  the  fruits  of  sin.  Life  is 
the  most  effective  teacher ;  and  where  elaborate 
doctrinal  instruction  often  produces  only  Phari- 
sees, life  produces  true  penitents.  And  plainly 
our  Lord  means  to  shed  a  ray  of  hope  into  those 
dark  regions  which  lie  outside  the  pale  of  ecclesi- 
astical teaching ;  for  though  both  men  were  pray- 
ing in  the  temple,  the  impression  is  left  on  the 
mind  that  the  publican  was  asomewhat  unfamiliar 
visitant  of  the  place  of  prayer.  The  ignorant  cry 
of  the  sinner,  almost  crushed  with  despair,  has  in 
it,  our  Lord  would  say,  the  germ  of  a  new  life. 
The  moment  of  heart-broken  hopelessness  is  like 
the  sinking  in  death  of  the  old  life,  which  makes 
way  for  a  new  hope  in  God  and  a  new  life  in  Him. 
To  be  absolutely  broken  in  our  own  self-confidence 
and  stopped  in  our  own  way  is  the  turning  point 
which  brings  us  to  God's  everlasting  way.  It  is 
an  experience  full  of  wretchedness,  but  only  by  a 
clear  recognition  of  our  actual  state  can  amend- 
ment be  begun.  If  we  are  to  find  our  life  in  God, 
life  in  self  must  be  proved  futile.  If  we  are  to 
use  intelligently  the  helps  God  affords  us,  we 
must  see  our  dangers.  If  salvation  from  sin  is  to 
be  rational  and  real,  it  must  meet  us  where  we 
are  and  be  applied  to  us  as  we  are.  We  must 
face  the  actual  truth  about  the  relation  which  our 
life  holds  to  perfect  holiness.     We    must  fairly 


THE   PHARISEE   AND   THE   PUBLICAN.      43 1 

judge  ourselves  by  a  perfect  life  and  own  to  all 
actual  derelictions  of  duty.  We  are  not  summon- 
ed to  penitence  as  a  seemly  and  suitable  acknowl- 
edgment of  God  ;  we  are  summoned  to  own  and 
face  the  truth,  to  touch  and  take  to  do  with 
reality,  to  look  at  life  as  it  really  is  and  ourselves 
as  we  really  are  ;  and  if  the  truth  about  our  own 
life  and  character  does  not  compel  shame  and 
humble  us  before  God,  we  are  not  asked  to  force 
a  penitence  that  is  not  natural  and  reasonable. 

The  circumstance  that  the  humble,  broken- 
hearted publican  went  down  to  his  house  justified 
rather  than  the  Pharisee,  shows  us  that  there  is 
no  true  religion  without  a  consciousness  of  sin ; 
that  the  consciousness  of  God  involves  a  con- 
sciousness of  sin,  as  the  strongest  light  casts  the 
darkest  shadows.  God  is  so  subtly  interwoven 
with  all  things,  and  especially  with  all  that  is 
moral,  that  we  cannot  know  Him  until  we  know 
human  life,  and  cannot  know  human  life  until  we 
know  Him.  The  two  grandest  parts  of  knowl- 
edge go  hand  in  hand  and  grow  together.  And 
you  can  always  tell  how  much  a  man  knows  of 
God  by  ascertaining  how  much  he  knows  of  his 
own  sin.  By  the  knowledge  of  God  he  is  lifted 
into  quite  a  new  point  of  view.  When  he  knows 
something  of  the  love,  patience,  and  sacrifice  of 
God,  he  finds  himself  in  anew  moral  world,  in  the 
presence  of  principles  and  purposes  infinitely 
exalted  above  those  he  has  been  familiar  with. 


432  THE   PARABLES   OF   OUR   LORD. 

and  applying  to  all  things  a  scale  immeasurably 
higher.  When  the  life  of  Jesus  Christ  is  taken 
seriously  as  the  one  standard  or  mirror  for  all 
human  life,  when  it  is  seen  to  be  the  Divine  idea  for 
us  all,  we  cannot  but  sink  in  shame  at  the  contrast 
it  presents  to  our  own. 

And  to  which  of  us  is  the  prayer  of  the  publi- 
can unsuitable?  Which  of  us  has  not  sinned 
without  excuse  ?  Who  among  us  can  invite  God's 
strict  judgment?  Would  it  not  be  the  part  of 
candor  and  honesty  to  go  to  God  as  frankly  and 
humbly  as  the  publican,  and  supplicate  God's 
mercy  ?  Must  we  not  be  living  an  altogether 
delusive  life  if  we  are  living  with  sin  unconfessed  ? 
Is  it  possible  we  can  be  satisfied  with  our  life 
while  we  have  been  at  no  pains  to  ascertain  how 
sin  is  to  be  dealt  with  ?  And  is  it  possible  we  can 
leave  a  sinful  past  behind  us  and  pass  on  to  the 
future  with  principles  unchanged,  with  no  cer- 
tainty that  the  future  will  be  better  than  the  past, 
with  no  real  hope  or  assurance  that  we  are  ad- 
vancing towards  a  sinless  and  perfect  condition  ? 

To  the  real  penitent  this  Parable  is  meant  to 
bring  encouragement.  It  plainly  says  that  God 
will  not  despise  the  prayer  of  the  contrite.  When 
the  heart  fails  under  a  sense  of  sin,  when  the 
whole  of  life  is  filled  with  darkness,  then  God  is 
near  and  accepts  the  penitent.  To  be  hopeless  is 
at  all  times  mistaken  and  wrong.  To  be  hopeless 
is  to  be  godless,  and  no  man  is  godless  however  he 


THE   PHARISEE  AND   THE  PUBLICAN.      433 

may  have  denied  God  and  forsaken  Him.  He 
has  a  God  still,  a  God  ready  to  forgive,  delighting 
in  mercy  ;  and  if  nothing  else  convinces  him  of 
God's  nearness,  his  own  sense  of  sin  ought  to  do 
so,  proving,  as  it  does,  the  supreme  importance  of 
all  moral  relations. 


THE  END. 


i/l 


Date  Due 


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